Kindly Unspoken
by hokiesmokie
Summary: The war changed us all. Some of us changed for the better; most of us changed for the worst. Draco had been chasing after a day that would never come. As for myself, my heart was broken. A part of me died that day. A part of me died with Ron. DM/HG
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe I'm finally posting this. I've been working on this since Christmas, and I've just been trying to improve it as much as possible before posting it because I REALLY want you all to enjoy this. This is my baby. LoL. I've been scared to death to post because I kept feeling like there were still a few ways to tweak it and make it better and more interesting, but I think I'm finally happy with it, and I hope you all are, too. The name came form Kate Voegele's song **_**Kindly Unspoken**_**. This isn't based on a song or anything, the lyrics just reminded me of Draco and Hermione, so after writing some of this, I decided to name it that. Also, I'm rating this M for the overall content and language. I personally like fics with the whole 'intimate and sexual' aspect, but I'm probably not going to put in the detailed sex scenes, simply because I'm not good at writing them and I don't want to ruin it by putting in a bad one. But if anybody's getting busy…you'll know it, trust me. ;) If I get more comfortable with them, I might add something later. Maybe some of your reviews could help me with some tips??? **

SUMMARY:

This story takes place over the span of ten years. It begins with Hermione's writings, you'll see why. She's reflecting on her life and telling a story of the experiences in her life that brought her to the place she's at today. This story will be fairly fast-paced, without extensive description in most places. Mainly the highlights of her life will be included. I wanted to explore Hermione's character more deeply, and I think I've uncovered another side of her. This is not your typical Hermione, as you see in the opening statement. You'll see how she changed over the years since the war at Hogwarts, through both detailed scenes and descriptive summaries from Hermione's essay. I hope it's not confusing, and I hope you find humor, sadness, happiness, and hope in the different parts of this story; as well as entertainment in it's entirety.

As always, I must say that I don't own Harry Potter or any of its plots or characters. I've only used them to tell my own story. You'll notice that while the overall timeframe of the story is compliant with JK Rowling's books, many of the events have been altered, extended, and/or deleted to make it work with the story I want to tell. I mean no disrespect or encroachment by this.

ooooo

Kindly Unspoken: Chapter 1

ooooo

**August 9, 2014**

_It's kind of hard to write about yourself. Sure, you know all the answers you'd usually spend countless hours trying to imagine about another person's life. But when you write about yourself, you're absolutely required to make it personal. There's no disguising your life as the life of a fictional character. Everybody knows it's your life in words. So how do you learn to let go of your modesty? To just let yourself write what you really feel about your life? To make it personal? Sometimes you have to put on a blindfold, sit down and start writing. You can feel the words forming in your very fingertips, but perhaps not being able to see them makes it easier. Or maybe, for only the brave of heart, you start to write; and hope what comes out is something above the equivalent of crap._

_So here it goes, my name is Hermione Granger, and I'm an alcoholic. Wow. It's surprisingly more difficult to write those words than it is to say them. Which, I'm guessing, is the purpose of this assignment. If you speak it, you can add a big fat, 'just kidding' to the end. But you can't really do that while writing, not without looking stupid, of course. I mean, if you wanted to take back something you wrote, just erase it…don't tell us you're taking it back. That's just dumb. _

_Okay, so I shouldn't have said that was dumb. I'm not supposed to say things like that, according to my therapist. I've never quite understood why not. I've asked a hundred times, but the only meaning I ever take from the answer is that I should treat people how I want to be treated, and not judge or make fun of other people. I don't get why she's constantly pounding manners into my head; isn't she supposed to be treating me for an addiction, not insolence? If you ask me, she should be a kindergarten teacher rather than a psychologist. Her name is Fiona, by the way. But I call her Feo…because it means 'ugly' in Spanish._

_Yes, I've taken up Spanish. I always imagined myself sitting on a beach in Mexico, drinking Tequila and listening to Jimmy Buffett…yes, I also know who Jimmy Buffett is. I've changed a lot. I'm not the person I used to be when I was 11 years old and first found out about magic. I'm not even the person I was when I was 17 years old and fighting for the greater good. I haven't known that person in a long time._

_That's the first time I've thought about the m-word in years. I've been here for exactly one month, and, seeing that this is a muggle facility, haven't been forced to think about it. I pretty much gave all that up. After the war, things changed. I was given an honorary diploma from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but it didn't mean as much as I always thought it would. I always thought I'd go on to be and Auror after graduation, or maybe hold an even higher position in the Ministry of Magic. But like I said…things changed._

ooooo

**December 9, 2004**

"This is just ridiculous." Hermione looked in the mirror in her best friend's bedroom.

"Come on, Hermione, you look beautiful." Ginny Weasley stood behind her friend and ran her fingers through Hermione's hair.

"I look stupid." Hermione flipped her long hair back and shook her head. This just wasn't going to work.

"You do not."

"Yes, I do." Hermione stood from the wooden chair she was sitting in and approached the full-length mirror to get a closer look. She had her first job interview today, and she had reluctantly let Ginny try a new spell on her hair. Hermione had to admit that Ginny was skilled. She'd made her hair longer, straighter, smoother, and more beautiful than it had ever been; but it didn't suit Hermione in the least. "Change it back."

"But, Hermione…"

"Please?"

Ginny sighed. "Fine, but I want you to know that I'm taking this personally." Ginny began to flip back through the spell book to find the reversal spell.

"It's not you, Ginny. It just doesn't look good on me." Hermione sat back down, waiting for Ginny to find the spell.

Ginny picked up her wand, carefully said the spell and pointed her wand at Hermione's brunette hair. It immediately went back to being curly, somewhat bushy, and messy. Hermione smiled, happy to have her hair back, even if it did look like crap. She thanked Ginny for trying to fix her hair troubles, and left Ginny's room for the restroom across the hall. Hermione had been living with the Weasleys since the war. She decided she couldn't very well go back to her clueless parents until she pulled herself together. After charming them to believe they were childless and their last name was 'Jones,' not 'Granger," trying to explain everything to them without a clear head would only upset them and make things worse. So for now, living in their little country cottage, they were Jonathan and Julia Jones; and she was living at the Burrow at Mrs. Weasley's request.

Once she was locked in the restroom, she stood in front of the sink and looked into the mirror. She first fluffed out her hair, contemplating what the hell she was to do with it. But the longer she looked at herself, the more she noticed her sad eyes. Leaning closer to the glass, she studied their dark brown reflection. She wondered if everybody else could look into them and see her sadness, because she sure could. It's all she saw when she looked in the mirror these days. It's mostly all she felt. She watched as the light in her eyes slowly turned to a fire, blazing hot and burning her pupils. Her eyes widened as she remembered that night.

There was a knock at the door. "Hermione, you okay in there?"

Startled, "Yeah, Gin, I'm fine." Hermione had to rub her eyes to stop the burning sensation, causing a couple tears to stream down her face.

Knowing her friend rather well, Ginny opened the door to see for herself if Hermione was okay.

When Hermione saw Ginny walk in, she immediately sat down in on the edge of the tub and began to cry. "I'm so sorry, Ginny."

Ginny sat in the floor beside her and hugged her legs, letting her own tears flow freely. "Hermione, there's nothing you could do."

"I should have been able to do something. I should have stopped him from going back in there."

"Please stop crying. I haven't cried in days." Ginny sniffed and wiped her tears on Hermione's blue jeans.

"I'm sorry for that, too. And I'm sorry that I keep making you take care of me all the time. I should be the one comforting you. He was your brother!" Hermione slid down in the floor and hugged Ginny tightly, the two of them rocking back and forth in the floor together.

Ginny shook her head. "It doesn't mean you didn't love him, too. We both lost a loved one, and it wasn't fair."

After a few moments of nothing but sobbing, Hermione wiped her eyes. "If I'd just told him again not to go back in..." She let go of Ginny and slumped against the outside of the tub.

"You know he wouldn't have listened. He was too proud. He wanted to make you proud." Ginny, too, wiped her eyes and held her knees tightly to her chest.

"I was proud. I was proud of him every day." Hermione shook her head in frustration, remembering what happened on the day of the war.

ooooo

**June 2, 2004**

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry Potter stood in front of Draco Malfoy in the Room of Requirement. They were surrounded by what seemed like miles and miles of bookshelves holding books, money, and trinkets of every shape and size.

"Not a chance, Potter! You've already lost. The war has just taken a drastic turn in our favor."

"Malfoy, I'm not kidding! You have no idea what you're risking!"

"Don't talk to me about risk, Potter. I know a great deal more than you think." The acrimony in his voice was evident. "Besides, how valuable can this stupid crown really be?"

"Well if it's of no value to you, then you'll have no problem handing it over."

"Look, he's not going to give it to you!" Vincent Crabbe blurted out, earning an angry glare from Draco. Their other friend, Gregory Goyle snickered until he got the same cautionary look.

"Shut up, Crabbe! Nobody asked you!" Ron Weasley shouted from the other side.

"Listen here Weasley…" Crabbe took a step forward, but Hermione Granger blasted him with a shielding curse before he could reach Ron.

"Granger!" Draco watched Crabbe fly behind him and into a bookshelf, knocking down a few dozen hidden items.

"Whoops." Hermione innocently shrugged her shoulders.

"Mind your own business, Mudblood!"

Hermione had heard him talk to her that way before, and she had certainly developed a tougher skin after being tortured at his home not too long ago; but she was still Hermione Granger, and regretfully let his statement anger her. She raised her wand and hit Malfoy with a curse before he had the chance to counteract it. He, too, went flying and landed in the floor, skidding to halt when he hit an old couch.

The diadem flew up in the air and Harry grabbed a spare broom that was propped against the nearest shelf so that he could fly and retrieve it. He realized as soon as he made contact that it was his Firebolt that Professor Dolores Umbridge had hidden from him in their fifth year. He caught the diadem, and upon attempt to store if safely in his bag, felt a streak of something hot behind his back. He turned to see that the tip of his broom was on fire. From somewhere in the shadows, Crabbe had sent a spark flying at Harry, just barely missing his body.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed as Harry fell off his broom and landed amongst a pile of ancient books. She and Ron ran to his side to help him up.

"Are you okay, mate?" Ron dusted off Harry's shoulder.

"I'm fine. Where's Malfoy?" Harry coughed and adjusted his glasses.

"I don't know. They probably left when…what's that sound?" Hermione's train of thought was interrupted by a crackling sound, coming from the far end of the dark aisle. The three looked towards the sound and began to see a glowing light slowly emerging from the darkness.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron looked astounded.

"Oh, Merlin." Hermione looked at the light, horrified.

"What?" The boys responded in unison.

"It's Fiend fire." She slowly backed away. "It can't be put out by anyone other that the one who started it."

"Crabbe!" Harry looked around to see if the other three boys had abandoned them there; left to die in the unstoppable fire. It looked as if they had.

"Let's go!" Hermione yelled and grabbed her friends' hands as she ran for the exit.

"Wait! The diadem!" Harry ran back to the place he crashed on his broom, desperately looking for the diadem so that he could destroy the last of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes once and for all.

"Harry, no! There's no time!" Ron stopped and called after him.

"I've got it!" Harry picked it up and ran as fast as he could back to his friends. The room was hot, and they were sweating and running as the room quickly began to fill with fire and burn away. They rounded a corner and bumped into none other than the three stooges that started this whole thing. All six of them crashed to the floor in a painful, sweating pile.

"What the hell's going on, Granger?" Draco disgustingly pushed her petite body off his own as he got up, dusting himself up.

"One of you idiots started a fire!"

"Yeah, blame the Death Eaters for everything that happens around here!"

She'd about had it with him. "Oh, shut up!" She yelled behind her as she ran for the exit. Everyone else followed her, Malfoy still arguing with her. They reached the exit and opened the door, jumping out into the cool, barren hallway.

"Help!"

Harry was about to jump through the door after Ron, when he heard the voice behind him. He turned to see Crabbe, apparently with his foot stuck on something, unable to move. He looked out the door at his friends, and at Goyle and Malfoy lying on the ground, coughing.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione coughed and held her stomach painfully.

Harry shook his head and ran back inside to help Crabbe. The two tried to get the foot loose as the raging flames neared them.

"What's he doing?" Hermione frantically shouted from the hallway.

"Crabbe? Where's Crabbe?" Malfoy looked around, just as frantically as Hermione. "Goyle, where's Crabbe?"

"I don't know, Malfoy." Goyle, too, began to search for their missing friend.

"I'm going in after Harry." Ron stood up and approached the door with purpose. It was one he didn't recognize, not even in himself, but after all he'd been forced to become more confident in the last year. He was finally stepping up to his Gryffindor reputation.

"Ron, don't!" Hermione jumped up and grabbed his arm.

"Hermione, I have to!"

"Please don't go back in there, Ronald!" Her voice was high-pitched and pleading, but Ron stayed calm and collected.

"I'll be fine." He ran his hand gingerly across Hermione's cheek and leaned in for a soft, short kiss. "I love you." These were his last words before he ran inside after Harry.

"Ron!" Hermione crouched in the doorway, shielding her face and looking into the room; the drafty hallway air was mixing with the heat given off from the fire and creating a violent, ashy wind around her body.

Inside, Harry was pleased to see Ron running up to them. He also tried to free Crabbe's foot, but was having no luck. Crabbe, by this point, had passed out on the floor, making it even more difficult for Harry and Ron to work with him. Harry winced when his glasses broke from the heat, piercing his face. The flames were so close that they could practically feel them on their skin.

"Harry, we have to go!" Ron shielded his face from the flames.

"We have to free him!"

"I don't think we can! We have to leave him, Harry!"

"No! We'll get it!"

"Let's go!" Ron pulled his best friend with all his might, and they ran for the door.

They were closing in on the door, when Harry began to slow down. He was getting dizzy, and his vision was beginning to go dark. Ron noticed it before it was too late, and caught him as he reached the floor. "Harry! Harry, wake up!" Ron shook his friend, trying to get him to regain consciousness, but it was no use. Harry was out cold. Ron grabbed Harry by the arms and pulled him as fast as he could to the door.

"They're coming!" Hermione jumped up to allow them to run through, but then realized that something was wrong with Harry.

"Hermione! Help Harry!" She helped Ron pull him to the doorway, where Goyle and Malfoy surprisingly took over, pulling Harry to safety.

"Make sure he's okay, I have to get the diadem. He dropped it right over there!" Ron yelled over the roaring flames to Hermione, who immediately protested.

"No, Ron, leave it!"

"I can't, Hermione. We've gone too far to lose it now!" Ron ran the twenty feet back to the place where the diadem was laying, blazing hot, and picked it up. He saw Hermione standing in the doorway just before he felt himself being swept into a fury of fire.

"No! Ron!" Hermione watched Ron's body being engulfed in the deadly flames; she tried to run in after him, but Malfoy was too quick for her, catching her by the waist and pulling her safely through the door. "Let me go! I have to help Ron!"

"Its too late, Granger." Malfoy tightened his grip of the wildly wiggling Hermione. He carried her to the far side of the hallway, and with their presence no longer close enough to the door, the Room of Requirement shut itself off for good.

"Malfoy! What have you done?" Hermione tried to wiggle her way free, but Malfoy was persistent in his grasp. He held Hermione tight, trying to calm her down by making shushing sounds.

Hermione eventually gave up watching the wall where the door had once been. She turned in Malfoy's arms and hugged him tight, crying loudly into his chest. He reluctantly hugged her back and shed a few tears of his own over the loss of his long-time friend.

ooooo

_The war changed us all. Some of us changed for the better; most of us changed for the worst. Ginny gained new confidence and strength, fighting the Death Eaters; but she lost a beloved brother. Harry lost a best friend, and nearly lost his life. In a gruesome, deadly duel, he defeated Lord Voldemort once and for all, and got to be _The Boy Who Lived_ once again. He also gained a few more scars to match the lightening bolt on his forehead. Draco learned that he wasn't cut out for the Dark Arts; that he'd been chasing after a day that would never come. After losing his best friend, we all began to see a different side of Draco Malfoy; one that nobody knew had existed. And as for myself…my heart was broken. I knew that I had a reason to celebrate; that I'd assisted in taking down the most powerful Dark Lord in history. But I couldn't, because I knew that my life would never be the same. A part of me died that day. A part of me died with Ron. _

_After a couple days of misery, there was a funeral service for those lost in the wake of the war. There were twenty-seven fatalities; six were faculty, and three of them were fellow students, including Crabbe and Ron, whose bodies were never recovered from the Room of Requirement. The other student that we all knew, Pansy Parkinson, had mistakenly been killed by a Death Eater…her brother-in-law, ironically. I'd never seen Draco Malfoy react the way he did when he heard the news. It's like he wanted to cry, but refused to let everyone see. We saw him walking away quickly, and then we heard the sounds of crashing in a nearby corridor. He ended up in the hospital wing for the night._

_Harry, too, had to spend those two days in the hospital wing. He had multiple injuries from facing Lord Voldemort, and he was advised not to attend the funeral. But Harry was hurting in more ways than one, and he also needed this time to grieve and to say goodbye to all those he lost. So without a second thought, I helped him sneak out of the hospital wing and into the beautiful garden where the service was being held._

_I remember thinking at the funeral that it was entirely my fault. If I'd done my job as the brains of the operation, I'd never gotten myself, or my friends, into this mess in the first place. And I definitely wouldn't be where I am today._

ooooo

**June 4, 2004**

"Thank you, students, parents, alumni, and guests for attending this memorial service this morning to remember and honor those who are no longer among us, who died so valiantly for our freedom." Professor McGonagall stood at the head of a large group of seated people, holding back tears as she presided over the service. "Twenty-seven of our very own professors, students, parents and friends were slain in their dutiful acts of valor and heroism. They will forever be remembered in our hearts." She and the surviving faculty lit twenty-seven white candles with their wands, and released twenty-seven white balloons as the large, tearful congregation watched them disappear into the clear blue June sky.

The names of each victim were read off, and everyone were allowed to put flowers at the headstones, which were formed in a circle, symbolizing the unity that was now present in the Wizarding World…the unity they were all fighting for.

After the service had ended, and Ginny and Hermione were helping Harry back to the Hospital wing, a surprisingly disconcerted Malfoy approached the three just outside the castle doors.

Hermione immediately took notice of his face, which she could tell was tear-stained, because it looked just like Harry's, Ginny's, and her own.

Malfoy looked uncomfortable and out of place as he thought of something to say to the three Gryffindors. "Look, I know I don't have any right to be over here right now, and I frankly don't know why I am, but I just wanted to…apologize."

The three were taken aback. They certainly hadn't expected this.

"I've been an arse the last seven years, to all of you. I let myself get caught up in the Dark Lord and I just…I'm sorry." He looked nervous, like he wasn't sure if he was doing this correctly. Hermione guessed that this was the first time he'd ever given an apology.

"And I also wanted to thank you, Potter. For trying to save Crabbe, I mean. He was my best friend…" Malfoy started to choke up a little, so he hurried his words along. "…and I just wanted you to know that it meant a lot to me that you did what you did. I understand that you probably don't care whether or not I'm grateful, and I don't blame you, but I am. And I'm sorry about Weasley." He looked to Hermione and Ginny as well. "To all of you." He nodded his head quickly, and turned to leave before he lost control of his emotions.

They were all speechless for a moment. They didn't know what to say. Malfoy had never had a kind word to say to any of them, and all of a sudden he was handing out apologies like candy. They couldn't believe that he picked today, of all days, to blow their minds.

Hermione couldn't get over the fact that he had clearly been crying. It was the first time she'd ever seen him cry, aside from the night of the war, when she'd clung to his body for dear life and cried after watching Ron die. She was embarrassed about it, and was glad that Malfoy hadn't mentioned it to anyone. She assumed that he, too, felt the way she did…that they were both in pain and it should never be spoken of again.

ooooo

_I took my first drink that night. I skipped what would have been my very last dinner in the Great Hall, and made my way to Hogsmeade. It was twilight, and the red glow of the sun cast a peaceful aura over the grounds where the headstones lie. I was distant from the circle, but I could see Draco kneeling in front of what I assumed to be Pansy's grave, a red rose in hand and holding his head low. I decided not to approach him, and continued on the path to the Hog's Head._

_The gates of Hogwarts had been destroyed, so there was no trouble getting off the grounds that night. Looking back today, I almost wish there were. It sure would have spared me a lot of tribulation._

_The bar was empty, except for a few regulars, who looked much older than the last time I'd seen them in there, two years ago. I sat down on the bar stool, ordered my first drink, and after a skeptical look from the bartender, a sad smile in return, and a glass of Firewhiskey later; I was well on my way to ruining my life._

ooooo

Hermione was feeling pretty good after her third shot. She'd been in the bar for hours, and found that she wasn't half-bad at holding her alcohol. She was chasing her last shot with a glass of Coke, and gripping to the edge of the bar, waiting out the burn.

Draco was feeling especially thirsty after packing to leave, and snuck out of the castle to get a drink. He usually hid a stash of Firewhiskey in his trunk, but had poured the last of it over Crabbe's memorial earlier that evening, because Crabbe always liked it so well. He glanced at an empty vase on the desk as he stepped through the doorway. It had once held a single red rose, enchanted to never wilt, that Pansy had given him last Valentine's Day. The flower now occupied the space at the foot of Pansy's headstone.

He opened the door to the Hog's Head and walked into the smoky bar. Normally, he wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like this, but he'd lost a good friend, he'd lost a love, he'd lost a war, and he was sure that he'd lost a good bit of himself in the last couple years of being a Death Eater. He sat down on a bar stool and ordered a glass of Firewhiskey.

Upon hearing the voice four empty seats down from her, Hermione turned to her right to see if her ears were deceiving her. No, she was right. It was him. She laughed, knowing that he could hear her, and hoping that he would. "Draco Malfoy…" She giggled. "What brings you to this fine establishment?" She spoke slowly, her words slightly slurred.

Draco looked to his left to see Hermione Granger. His first thought being, _what the hell is she doing here?_ "Granger?"

"In the flesh."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. She wasn't acting like herself. Normally, she was tense and angry around him, but she was oddly relaxed tonight. He watched her down another drink, eyes wide in surprise. _Oh, that explains it._ He moved over the seat beside her, looking in amazement at all she'd drank. It was much more than he thought she could ever handle.

"Did I invite you over here?" She took a drink of Coke, and spoke without looking at him.

"I invited myself." He looked at her, feeling somewhat nervous. He'd never had this kind of experience with Granger, and he wasn't sure if he could take any more change right now.

"Typical."

There was a moment of silence while the bartender brought Draco his drink.

"You're going to need more than that." Hermione pointed to his glass before digging her hand into a bowl full of cashews, which she had been picking at all night.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're here to forget, right?" She looked at his confused and somewhat uncomfortable face. "You're going to need more. I've had all this and I still remember."

Draco looked sadly at her. For the first time in his life, he actually saw Hermione as having feelings. He felt sorry for her. Since holding her and trying to comfort her two nights ago, he'd started to feel like they had something in common. They'd both lost a friend and a loved one, his just happened to be two different people. He couldn't explain any of the feelings he'd had the last couple days. And he couldn't explain why he felt like talking to her, or why he cared. "Are you okay?" He braved asking the question, not sure exactly where it came from.

Hermione frowned and shook her head. She knew, despite her current state of intoxication, that he should be concerned that Malfoy had suddenly taken and interest in talking to her, but she wasn't okay, and she needed someone to know she wasn't okay. She'd spent the last two days trying to be strong in front of Harry and Ginny, but she couldn't hold it in any longer. She tried desperately to hold her tears back, but found it a waste of energy she just didn't have. "I'm just so…" She tried to find the right word.

"Lonely?" Draco had already finished two glasses of Firewhiskey, and was in the process of ordering something stronger.

Hermione thought for a minute. She hadn't really thought about being lonely, but now that he mentioned it… "Yeah, I guess I am."

Draco nodded his head. "Me too." He was beginning to feel the effects of his alcohol.

Hermione was so surprised that she looked away from the napkin she was doodling on. Had he really just admitted something personal to her? _Merlin, he must really be messed up._

Draco felt her eyes on the side of his head. He took another shot and turned to face her. His eyes met hers and he could practically feel her surprise. "Don't looked so shocked, Granger."

"Sorry." She immediately forced her eyes back to her napkin, examining the picture of the owl she was working on. She internally chuckled at her own drawing. Merlin, it was awful. After a moment of criticizing her work, she looked back to Draco, who was downing another shot. She swallowed before she made the decision to ask what she'd wanted to all night. "Hey, Malfoy?"

"Yes?" He gave his response slowly and indifferently.

"If you don't mind my asking, why did you do it?"

"Do what?" He furrowed his brow and glanced in her direction.

"Become a Death Eater?"

His body tensed up and he fought himself not to flare up at her. After all, it was a fair question, if you really thought about it. He took a deep breath and switched out his empty shot glass in his hand for a full one on the bar in front of him. "It's complicated." He said it like the conversation was over, and took the shot as an extra insurance.

Hermione bit on her bottom lip, wondering if she should press the issue. She decided she probably shouldn't, but she really wanted to know his side of the story. "How?"

"It's not something I've very proud of, Granger. I did it…but I didn't like it." He hung his head, pretending to inspect something on the edge of the bar. The truth was, he couldn't stand to look at her. For the first time in his life, he was actually ashamed of something he'd done; and knew the disappointed look Hermione was probably showing all too well. He got it from his father enough. He didn't need to see it on her face, too.

"Then why did you even do it?" She couldn't understand why someone would do something they didn't want to do; especially something so terrible.

"I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice, Malfoy. It may not be a choice you like, but there's _always_ a choice." She didn't mean to sound so angry, but it slipped out before she could censor it.

He was glad she let her emotion get the best of her, because for a moment he forgot whom he was talking to. He almost let her in, and that was something he definitely couldn't afford to do. "Look, I just don't want to talk about it." He took another drink, again signaling the end of a conversation.

And again, Hermione didn't get the signal. "Come on, it's an easy question. Did you like, get something out of it?"

"Granger, I said I don't want to talk about it, alright? This is not up for discussion." _Merlin, she's persistant._ He began to busy himself with picking the covering off the bar in a couple places.

Hermione continued to press her luck. "Yeah, but why…"

"Granger, are you always such a pain in the arse?"

She didn't really know how to respond to that question; though she got the feeling it was rhetorical, anyway.

Her look said it all. Yes, she was, in fact, always a pain in the arse.

He sighed, frustrated, for he knew this was going to go on all night if he didn't put an end to it. "You know what," he began to speak animatedly, "let's say that you had grown up thinking that dark magic was the only magic. Let's say that you father was the right-hand man to the most powerful wizard in the world."

Hermione interrupted him, furiously. "_Dumbledore_ was the most powerful…"

He ignored her as if she'd said nothing. "And let's say that when said wizard arose from the near dead and stepped foot into your dining room one night, all the memories that you had when you were an infant came flooding back to you; horrible things, things that you didn't even know you'd seen until this day."

"Okay, I…"

"Let's say that this Dark Lord took it upon himself to use your home as his headquarters. You now have Death Eaters living in your home, and they have you and your mother doing all sorts of unthinkable tasks, nonstop, day and night. And then, when you think things can't get any worse, your father gets himself sent to Azkaban, thanks to some little incident at the Department of Mysteries." He raised his eyebrows at Hermione, as she shamefully bowed her head. After all, she was partly responsible for sending his father to prison, and they both knew it. "So now, you're stuck in a house with your mother: who's okay to live with, except for the fact that she constantly cries for your father, your aunt: who's a complete nutter altogether, about twenty or so previously homeless Death Eaters: no need to explain that, and the Dark Lord: who is looking for someone to replace your careless father." He stopped to take a drink. "Guess who he's going to pick."

"You?"

"No, not me. This has nothing to do with me. We're talking about you. Remember, Granger?

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, he picks me."

"Right. And then you're given an impossible task; especially with nosy little Gryffindors running around…"

"Hey, I told Harry not to…"

"So when someone else takes care of this task for you, you're looked down upon even more, because the deal was 'do it or you and your mother die.' But luckily, he takes pity on you, and you're forced to either get the dark mark, which is the worst pain you're ever felt in your life, by the way; or you can opt to be killed. What would you do?"

"Well…" she thought briefly. There just had to be another way. "I wouldn't become a Death Eater."

He smirked, finally making his point. "You wouldn't want to talk about it either."

Hermione smiled. _Ahh, so that's his point._ She watched him down another drink, pretending to ignore her. She picked up on the haunted look on his face, and for a moment she was sorry that she'd made him relive all the melancholy.

He finally sighed, becoming annoyed with her persistent stare. "What, Granger?"

"Sorry. It's just that…this is weird." She just couldn't leave well enough alone.

"And why's that?" Draco took another drink, knowing perfectly well why this was weird. He was fully aware that he was on the verge having an honest conversation with her. Granted, it was a drunken conversation, but she was right…it was weird.

"I just didn't expect you to be so torn up over any of this." She looked sadly to her hands, which were nervously playing with each other in her lap.

Draco laughed, which surprised Hermione. Of all the reactions he could have given, she hadn't anticipated this one. "You know, Granger, I'm not made of stone."

"I know..." She lied, becoming slowly afraid of angering him. For a moment she'd forgotten how dangerous he was and she was afraid she'd let her mouth get the best of her.

"No, you don't." He put his empty glass on the bar with more force than necessary and spun his stool around to face her. "You think I'm just a killer. You think I have no heart. And you think I didn't feel just as much pain as you did today at the funeral."

"I…" Hermione tried to interrupt. Draco's voice was getting more powerful and she was afraid he would start yelling.

"No, shut up, Granger!" He cut her off, continuing to raise his voice. He was letting his emotions get the best of him, but he couldn't help it. He was so overwhelmed; and even if it was Hermione Granger he was talking to, he needed to get it off his chest. "I felt something today. I felt something the last few days that I haven't felt before. Crabbe was a good friend. And I loved Pansy." He stopped to force himself to hold back tears. "We were going to get married one day. We've known it for years. We were going to get married and finally be happy. I loved her with all my heart. And yes, I have one. A bigger one than you'll ever know and it's shattered right now, Granger. So excuse me while I grieve. I know you think I'm not capable of anything other than hatred, and that's fine. I don't really give a damn what you think about me. But don't you ever, for a second, play either of their deaths off like they didn't matter; like they were less than Weasley's death. At least you got to say goodbye." He finished, breathing heavily. His skin was flushed; and Hermione thought it was the most color his fair complexion had ever held. Draco felt anxious. He wished now that he hadn't just said everything he was feeling, but he felt a sense of relief at the same time. Besides, she was drunk; what were the chances of her remembering any of this tomorrow?

Hermione was speechless, while Draco continued to drink. His explosion seemed to have sobered her up. She was quiet, and when she decided what to say, she spoke softly. "You're wrong about me."

Draco stopped mid-sip and looked at her, with the glass still attached to his lips. He smirked as he put the glass back down. "Oh, this should be good. All right, Granger. Let's hear it." He turned to her with mocked interest, waiting for what he was sure was going to be a very entertaining explanation.

"I don't think that about you. I don't think you're a killer."

"Why not? Everybody else does."

"You didn't save everybody else." She looked ashamed, like she didn't want to admit it.

"I'm sorry, what?" Draco stared at her disbelievingly. Was she really going to bring this up now?

"I would have run back in there after Ron if you hadn't grabbed me. I don't think I ever thanked you."

Draco had to admit, she surprised him. He thought an argument was going to break out, but this was so far from it, it was unreal. "To tell you the truth, I don't know why I did it."

"So you didn't mean to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know. I mean, it's not to say that I wouldn't do it again, but I've been kind of wondering about that night and everything that happened."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Look, I wasn't ever going to mention it, you know." He looked up to her.

She half-smiled and nodded her head, turning her attention back to the shot glass that had been sitting in front of her for a while now. Draco abandoned the topic and ordered another drink for himself.

Another hour of painful, drunken silence went by. The night was getting later, now into the wee hours of the morning, and even the regulars were starting to thin out. With what he decided was going to be his last shot of vodka for the night, Draco spun around in the barstool to look out into the near-empty, smoky bar. He glanced to Hermione, who was absent-mindedly playing with a straw in her glass. She really did look sad, he thought. And lonely.

He let his eyes trail from her bushy, train wreck of a ponytail down to the soft features of her face. Her profile was kind of nice, he noted. She had this cute little button nose that stuck out from her face like she always had it up in the air, though it was always completely by accident. Maybe that explained a lot of the reason he'd thought she was so stuck up over the years; she couldn't help it. She had a diamond stud in her ear, and it matched the sparkle that he caught from the corner of her eye, which was also obviously unintentional.

He continued his gaze on down her neck, where a chestnut brown ringlet was tangled in the silver chain hanging loosely over her creamy skin. The collar of her white polo shirt was uneven, as was the short-sleeved cuff, which was turned up slightly in one place, revealing even more of her muscular shoulder. That was her dominant side, Draco remembered from the countless times she'd tried to hex him; of course it would naturally be more defined than the other.

Her shirt was slightly raised up in the back, no doubt form her incessant spinning on the stool to try and relinquish her boredom. Her attire was frazzled, along with her mind. Draco leaned forward to sneak a peak at her slightly exposed back, and was able to see that, even in the darkness of the room, there was a little peach fuzz on it. One thing The Dark Lord has always liked about him was that he had good eyes.

After spending a brief moment on her thin midsection, Draco let his eyes wander on down around the curve of her bum, squeezed into a pair of tight blue jean shorts, and down her smooth, muscular legs. He swore that if he'd never seen this girl attempt (and fail) to fly a broom before, that her muscles would make him think she was a Quidditch player…and a damn good one at that.

His eyes had barely made their way to her ankles when Hermione noticed him staring at her.

"Are you alright?" She asked with slurred words, having drunk a good bit more since they last spoke an hour ago.

"I'm fine." He tried to pull his eyes away from her, but he was a lonely boy, and he was regretfully feeling a sort of…was it…lust? Want? Need, even? He didn't know; but he did know that he wanted to fill the void in his heart tonight. He just couldn't stand feeling this empty anymore. The alcohol he'd consumed just seemed to make it worse, instead of better, like he'd intended.

"Seriously, what?" She didn't buy his answer, especially after he didn't stop looking at her body. She didn't know what was going on with him. He ignored her for the past hour and now he was suddenly interested in her. What the hell?

"I was just thinking." He thought of how best to word this. "I could go for a walk. Are you interested?" He watched her raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow, run her tongue across her top row of teeth while thinking, and set her glass of near-melted ice on the bar. She half-smiled after a minute of pondering and nodded her head.

He smirked in return. _Excellent._ He tossed some galleons on the bar, more than covering both their tabs, and helped steady Hermione as she practically fell out of the stool and into his chest. "Whoa. Slow down."

She smiled. _What the hell am I doing?_ It briefly crossed her mind, but was pushed aside when Draco linked his arm with hers, strolling out of the bar doors by her side. His arm was muscular, as she had scarcely noticed a couple nights ago, but failed to recall until now. She was lonely, and she missed the feel of a warm body near her own. She'd gotten used to sleeping near Ron, and for the last two nights, any sleep she got at all was restless without him there.

"It's beautiful." Draco made the observation as they neared the end of the dirt path in Hogsmeade, and approached a large weeping willow tree. The air was warm with a chilly breeze, but it was just how he liked it. He looked thoughtfully to Hermione, and saw that a tear was rolling off her cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

Hermione sobbed in reply. She didn't want to cry, not again, not in front of him again. He was going to see her as weak, and that was the last thing she wanted right now. She just wanted his company. She knew that she shouldn't want it, but she couldn't help it. She didn't even care if it was Malfoy, as long as it was somebody, anybody that made her feel safe like Ron had.

Draco shifted his arm and took her hand in his, leading her to the tree. They sat down on one side; the side that was close to the river neither one knew was there before. They'd never been allowed to travel this far on their class trips, and they both currently wondered why not, as this were clearly the most beautiful part of Hogsmeade.

"Malfoy?" After a few minutes of resting against the trunk of the tree and listening to Draco breaking twigs and picking at the grass, Hermione got him to look at her. "How long?"

"How long what?" He furrowed his brow at her ambiguous question. He was learning that she was full of these kinds of questions and statements.

"How long does it hurt?"

"Losing somebody?" He had a feeling it's what she meant. Merlin knows he'd lost enough people throughout his life to know the feeling.

"Yeah. Does it ever go away?"

He was still for a moment, breaking the twigs in his hands with more force than before. "Yes. It goes away." Thinking about it made his heart ache again, partly for the loss he'd just suffered, and partly because he knew he was lying to her. "Slowly but surely, it goes away."

She let her tears fall more freely. She had to give him props for at least trying to sound convincing, but she could tell from his voice that it was all a lie. She didn't know where the impulse came from, but she scooted her body near him and laid her head on his shoulder.

At first, he jerked away a little, but when it didn't faze her, he hesitantly stretched his arm out around her. He could feel her body jerking as she sobbed. He replayed the scene from the other night, and stroked her hair, making shushing sounds to calm her.

After a few minutes of her thoughts running wild, wondering how in the hell she ever ended up here tonight, with Malfoy of all people, and weighing the pros and cons of what she was about to do in her head, Hermione's body took over and sat up from his chest. He looked at her quizzically, and she didn't waste any time as she latched her lips to his, using all her anger, sadness and frustration as the passion driving it.

Draco was beyond surprised when he felt her soft, wet lips on his. She just completely floored him, but he kissed her back, desperate for companionship. He never saw himself kissing a Mudblood, but then again, he had pretty much had it with anything that had to do with Dark Magic. Most of the Purebloods he knew had tried to ruin his life, and almost get him killed, so why should he associate with that kind of lifestyle anymore? As far as he was concerned, Mudbloods didn't kiss half-bad.

Hermione kissed him harder and harder until she didn't think about Ron anymore. As soon as the thought was out of her head, she pulled away, breathing heavily and staring with apprehensive eyes at Draco. He, too, looked somewhat uneasy, and she decided that the best way to handle it was to kiss him again.

Draco found himself feeling guilty for enjoying this. He just lost the love of his life two days ago, and now he was snogging the girl he always considered to be his enemy. He knew the last two days' events had affected him, but was this normal? Was it normal to feel this overwhelmed by desire for human contact? He felt like he needed this. He kissed her more feverishly to eliminate his own feelings of sadness and guilt, because it was obvious that she'd thrown all hers out the window.

Their advancements grew in ardor, and they were finally forced to come up for fresh air. When they did so, it hit Hermione that her shorts her unzipped, that her shirt was pushed up to reveal her stomach and back, and that Draco's shirt was off and protecting her head from the ground.

Draco noticed her uneasiness. _Oh no. Please don't back out on me now. Please don't change your mind._ "You okay?" He managed to speak through heavy breaths. He was supporting himself over top of her, and droplets of sweat were dripping onto her smooth stomach.

His voice interrupted her spastic thoughts. She focused her eyes on his face. His eyes were darker than earlier, and his lips her swollen from her kissing. She traced the outline of his head with her eyes. The moonlight was shining bright behind him, and his body created a shadow over her. She didn't know how to respond, and didn't get a chance to before Draco's anxiety got the best of him.

"Granger?" He had barely given her enough time to answer the first time, but he was impatient. They both knew it; it wasn't some big secret. And he really wanted to get a move on with this.

"Sorry, I just…"She shook her head, trying so desperately to clear it out. No such luck. "This is so fast."

He sighed. _Here we go. I should have known this wasn't going to work._

"No, it's just that, we're both lonely and grieving…"

"All the more reason to just get it over with and not dwell on it, then."

"I don't do this kind of thing, Malfoy. I'm not that girl."

"I'm not asking you to be. You started this, Granger, not me."

"I know, I just…"

"What?" He was started to get really impatient now.

"Well don't you think we should talk about this?"

"Forgive me, but I'm a little sick of talking." He'd felt like he'd done more talking in the past few hours than he had in the past few years. He was ready to stop talking about everything.

"Yeah, but…"

"Look, Granger, either you're going to sleep with me tonight or you're not. Now which one is it going to be?"

She bit her lip, thinking it over.

"Here, let me help you." Draco kissed her with what seemed to be more passion than either had been able to muster before, and pulled back when he thought she'd had enough to sway her decision.

She swore she saw stars just before she felt his lips pulling away, so agonizingly far away from where she wanted them to be right now.

"Well?"

She kissed his again with the same level of passion, possibly more, trying to get one up on him.

Draco smiled in the middle of her kiss. _I guess that's a yes._

ooooo

**A/N: So that's my first chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to lots of reviews! I'm psyched to see what people think about this. I know it's a little Out of character, but come one, they just fought a war and lost the loves of their lives. Plus, I swear that after reading more of this fic, you'll understand why after seeing how much Hermione and Draco are forced to change. Thanks in advance for the reviews, and I hope to be as speedy as possible with updating. I actually have some of the future scenes written, I'm just trying to decide how to make it better. Your reviews can help with that! ;) **

**-Amanda**


	2. Chapter 2

I began to write letters to Ron

**A/N: I'd like to start out by giving a shout-out Sophie and Pamela for their wonderful, kind reviews! I was so excited to see them both! Reviews are much appreciated. You girls made my day! Thanks so much.**

**Secondly, here's the second chapter! I wanted to wait until I had more of the third chapter written before posting, but I couldn't help myself. ) I'm excited to see what you think of it.**

**As I said in the first note of the first chapter, time moves fast. It really didn't in the first chapter…but I covered months in this one. I hope no one finds it difficult to keep up. Let me know if you do and maybe I can figure out a way to make it easier to read.**

**Enough of my rambling…here's what's going on with Draco and Hermione…(which I do not own, by the way. I only own MOST of the plot…I do use bits and pieces of the books when needed. But you guys should know what's mine and what's JK Rowling's.)**

oooooooooooooooo

Kindly Unspoken: Chapter 2

oooooooooooooooo

_I began to write letters to Ron. They were apologies, really. Every time I slept with Draco, I wrote a letter. Every time I got drunk enough to stop feeling sorry for myself, I slept with Draco. And every time I thought about Ron, I drank. It was a never-ending cycle. _

_I never really knew why I did it. I could never decide whether I was just lonely when I went to Draco, or whether I actually wanted to. Either way, he became someone I was comfortable around. I could talk to him, and he talked to me. Maybe I was just mesmerized by the fact that he was actually opening up to me. It was something I knew he only shared with me, and maybe I felt special because of it. Maybe I was trying to replace Ron. I don't know. But I became fond of Draco. And I think he was rather fond of me as well. We were both sad, but being together made us forget how sad we were for a while. We weren't exactly friends, but we were on a first name basis. I'm not sure of the day we started it, but it had been going on for a while. _We_(that's what we called it…just 'we') had been going on for a while...until things got complicated._

_I had to sneak around to see Draco. I couldn't very well tell the Weasleys and Harry that I was with him, could I? Of course not. So it was a secret, and hard one to keep. Not only did I have to keep it from my friends/second family, but Draco had to keep it from his father. And keeping a secret from Lucius fucking Malfoy was not easliy accomplished. (Please excuse my language. This is another bad habit I'd developed over the years.) _

_He was hard on Draco. Really hard. And I could tell it. The only time Draco and I really got to spend together was at his office-and that was only after hours when his father had already gone home. I knew that no matter how hard my home life got, (living with a different family that was grieving the loss of their youngest son, having to live without my parents, etc.) Draco's home life was always more difficult. Selfishly, I have to admit that I liked knowing I wasn't the most screwed up eighteen year-old in London; but the fact that I was having a 'We' relationship with the one who was, made me sad for him. I was afraid that my friends would find out about us. But I knew it still wouldn't be as bad as Lucius finding out, so I stayed as low-key as I could. He and Draco had enough problems as it were._

oooooooooooooooo

September 1, 2004

"Draco?" Lucius Malfoy didn't even knock before entering his son's bedroom, unannounced.

Draco sighed. He was sitting on the end of his king-sized bed, picking at a spare thread on the quilt his grandmother had given him the day he got into Hogwarts. "What?"

Lucius stopped abruptly and furrowed his brow upon hearing Draco's response. He knew better than to speak to his father that way, "I beg your pardon?"

Draco sighed again, more irritated this time, but actually making an effort to hide it. "I mean yes, father?" He lounged on his side, facing his father, who was looking curiously around the unusually untidy room. Draco normally kept it spotless, and everything had a place.

"How are you feeling? Your mother tells me you are ill." Lucius didn't make eye contact, or an effort to show concern for his son, but ran his finger, disapprovingly, along a dusty surface.

Draco scoffed. _Yeah, you'd know if you ever bothered to venture up to this part of the house._ Lucius rarely ever made a visit to Draco's room, unless he had important business to discuss, which was perhaps why Draco was so uninviting this evening. He knew something bad was to come of this visit. "Still not that great, to be honest." He scooted himself to rest against a pile of pillows at the head of the bed.

Lucius sighed. He didn't know what to do in this situation. His son was showing weakness, not illness; and he was sure it either had to do with his old love interest, Pansy Parkinson, or with his new love interest, a nameless girl Lucius hadn't had the privilege of meeting, yet. "Draco, son, you're not acting appropriately."

Draco lifted his head to stare at his father, thinking that he just _couldn't_ be serious. Unfortunately, he was. "And how, exactly, am I supposed to act?"

"You will mind your tone, Draco." Lucius shot a warning glare in Draco's direction. "You're not behaving like a man. You're behaving like a sickly child."

"Father, I am _not_ behaving like a child. I'm behaving like a man that just lost his girlfriend."

Aah, so it _was_ the Parkinson girl that had Draco in a rut._ Too bad._ Lucius was hoping it was his new girlfriend, and that he'd finally get some information on the girl. Whoever she was, she had to be good to stay so well hidden. If there's one thing Lucius Malfoy was good at, it was knowing things. Especially these kinds of things. "Draco, it's been _months._"

"Three months, Father. It's been only three months."

"Still, Draco, there are times to think about these kinds of things, and now is not the time."

Draco's breath was strong and audible through his nose. He was trying his best to keep from lashing out at his father, for he knew it might be the very last time he ever did.

"There are more important things at hand."

Draco put on a fake (almost) smile. "Right. So what did you _really_ come all the way up here for?"

"I have a business proposition for you."

Of course he did. "And?"

"There are still many followers of the Dark Lord out here, and I think that if you and I worked together, we could…"

"Dad, no."

Lucius was bewildered when Draco disagreed so suddenly, and right in the middle of a sentence. "I'm sorry?"

"I don't want anything to do with dark magic anymore. It's over, Dad, just let it go." Draco rolled off his bed and walked across the room, busying himself with straitening a stack of books. It was something he did frequently…find something else to do instead of listen to what someone's trying to tell you. In his experience, it worked quite well with his impatient father.

"Draco, this will be different. This time, _you_ will be the new Dark Lord."

_Puzzled. Perplexed. Astounded. Astonished. Pissed off. Angry. Upset. _Draco just couldn't think of the right word to describe his feelings at the moment. Of all the stupid, _stupid_ things his father could dream up, Draco never imagined he was capable of something _this_…well, stupid. "Excuse me? What?" Maybe he had heard incorrectly; he'd better make sure.

"You, my son," Lucius approached Draco, proudly, and put his hands on his shoulders, "have the potential to be great, just like Lord Voldemort."

Draco laughed. "Right, because he was so great that he was nearly killed by a baby, and then spent thirteen years waiting for some gullible idiot to come around and bring him back to life; only to get killed by that same baby, sixteen years later. Yeah, he was bloody amazing." Draco rolled his eyes and made to move away, but was jerked back into place, roughly, by his father.

"You will show respect for your master."

"He's not my master, Father. Not anymore. And I can assure you, that if I ever were to agree to your foolish request, you would not be in my innermost circle. I'd be smarter than your so-called master." He gave a sneer, reflective of the one on Lucius' face.

With forced equanimity, Lucius released Draco's shoulders. He cleared his throat, gaining his composure and straitening his robes. "Well. Just think about it, son. It would be a very wise move on your part. You know this isn't over."

"What do you mean it's not over?" Draco squinted his eyes suspiciously.

"It will never be over. There will always be a struggle between good and evil, Draco. Sooner or later, you have to choose a side. I thought you were on ours."

"You mean, the losing side?"

"The sensible side. I'm not telling you what to do, Draco. I'm just telling you that the day will come, again, where you have to decide whom you're going to fight for. I just hope you'll make the right decision." Lucius left with an air of mystery, as he often loved to do.

Draco remained standing alongside his nearly full bookshelf, thinking about what his father just said. _Maybe he's right. Maybe it's not over. But if it's not, and I have to pick a side, I'm going for good. _He opened the fourth book on the middle shelf and took out a photograph of Hermione sitting on his desk at work. She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top, had her hair in a ponytail and her legs crossed. She kept holding her hand up in front of the camera, bashfully, flashing shy smiles, and waving at the camera. Draco smiled. _He was on whatever side Hermione was on, until the end._

oooooooooooooooo

November 30, 2004

Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were lounging in the floor of the Weasleys' den, watching the twins, Fred and George, demonstrate their new products for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ginny and Harry were laughing along and having a good time, but Hermione was barely faking a smile. She kept looking out the windows both on the north and south sides of the room, hoping that an owl would brave the cold to bring her a letter from Draco, asking to meet him. It had been a week since she last saw him; his father had him very busy at work. She'd offered to visit him at his office tonight, as she had many times before, especially recently; but he declined, saying he had too much work that was overdue and he actually had to get it done before his father got suspicious.

"Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione responded quickly, a little startled, when George interrupted her thoughts.

"Why don't you try on this scarf?" He cheerfully held out a green scarf in front of him.

"I don't know, George, I don't really think green is her color." Fred scratched his chin, humorously thinking it over.

Hermione smirked. _Funny. _Little did they know that she'd worn Draco's very similar scarf just a couple weeks ago while traveling between his office and her favorite liquor store, and she happened to look very good in green.

"Well, maybe a blue one, then?" George went to reach for another color from the box beside him.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, just give it here." She faked another smile and took the green scarf out of his hand. She wrapped the soft scarf around her neck, liking the warm feeling for a moment. She felt it slightly tighten around her neck and watched as Fred and George exchanged a knowing grin. She immediately began to claw at the fabric, sensing that something wasn't right, but it only pulled tighter.

"Help!" She tried to gasp for air as the other four laughed. She rolled her eyes. _Stupid gits._ She tried again to get it off her neck, but still, it tightened further.

Just as Hermione thought she might pass out, Fred stopped laughing long enough to pull a string at the end of the scarf, causing it to unravel and allow her to breathe again.

She took in a deep breath, slowly getting back into a rhythm. "Are you two trying to murder me?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione, it's all in good fun." George continued to laugh with his brother, sister, and Harry.

Hermione didn't find it the least bit amusing. She just wished that posh-flying owl of Draco's would show up at any minute to give her an out, because these people were driving her up the…

"What was that?" Harry interrupted Hermione's train of thought, being the first to notice the rustling sound outside the Burrow.

Hermione got excited, but kept it to herself. She, along with the rest, listened intently until they all heard it.

"Mum and Dad are home!" Ginny jumped up from Harry's lap, nervous that they would catch her sitting so intimately with her boyfriend.

Fred chuckled at his sister's jumpiness. "No they're not, look at the clock." He pointed to the clock on the wall that displayed the family's whereabouts, and it showed that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still at a dinner party.

"Then what was it?" they were all looking towards the front windows where the noise had come from.

Hermione, though, looked to the back where she had instructed the owl to go if it had a message for her. It wasn't an owl that she saw, but it was something light colored, and it ducked beneath the windowsill in a hurry. "No way."

"What?" Harry turned to her, unsure of what she said.

"What? Oh, nothing." She stretched and yawned. "Well, I think I'm going to turn in for the night. Goodnight." She walked briskly to the winding staircase.

"You're going to bed when there could be something out there to get us?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well you're usually the first one to investigate such things."

"Oh. Right." She started to the front door.

"What are you doing?" Harry grabbed her arm, holding her back from the doorknob.

"I'm investigating." What was the deal? First they wanted her to see what it was; now they don't?

"It could be dangerous."

She rolled her eyes. "Harry, you didn't listen to me telling you that for seven years, what makes you think it works the other way?" She opened the door and looked out at the clear night sky. The moon was shining bright and illuminating the land in front of the house.

"I'm coming with you." Harry let go of Ginny's hand, and followed Hermione to the door, where she turned on her heel, causing him to bump into her.

"No, I'm fine." She smiled.

"But…"

"Look, I'm just going for a walk, okay? I'll check around the house at the same time." He didn't look convinced, so she put her hands firmly on his shoulders and spoke slowly. "I'll be okay, Harry." She chuckled at his eagerness.

Harry looked to the ground, slightly embarrassed that he was being so protective over her. It's not like she couldn't fend for herself. She knew as much or more about defending herself as he did. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand to lose you, Hermione." His voice was low, so that only she heard.

She smiled sadly and pulled him into a hug. He really was a good friend. She felt him draw in a deep breath, and she hugged him tighter, shifting her head on his shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. "Thank you, Harry. I'll be fine. We'll both be fine." She pulled back. "Okay?"

He nodded his head in agreement.

"Okay." She caressed his cheek supportively and spoke louder to the rest of the room. "If I'm not back in ten days, send a search party." She smiled as she closed the door behind her.

They cool night air hit her like pins and needles. It was almost December, and the air was getting colder and colder by the day. She took a deep breath, and coughed when the chill hit her throat and choked her up. She started out walking leisurely, because she knew the rest were watching her from the window, but when she got far enough to disappear from their sight, she broke out into a run around to the other side of the Burrow. He was around here somewhere; she knew he was. She'd almost made it to the field where the Weasleys practiced Quidditch, but rounded a tree and ran smack into Draco before she got there. Upon the sudden contact, she screamed, but quickly calmed down.

"Took you long enough." He kissed her feverishly. It had been so long since he'd had a chance to do this.

She allowed him to kiss her for a moment, because she had missed it just as much, but then she pulled away from him. He had a look of confusion on his face, which only multiplied when she hit him on the arm.

He touched his left shoulder, faking pain and laughing. "What the hell was that for?"

"You idiot! They could have seen you!"

"But they didn't."

"But they could have. And how in the blazes would I explain that one, huh?"

"I guess you could tell them the truth." He smirked and moved in for another kiss, hoping to shut her up.

She put a hand on his chest, stopping him from reaching her lips. "Oh right, that I'm having an affair with Draco Malfoy, our sworn enemy? Yeah, that's going to happen." She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

He sighed. "Whatever, can we just get out of here?"

"And how do you expect we do that?" She put a hand on her hip, shifted her weight and raised a single eyebrow. Her elegant frame was in front of the full moon, looking like a silhouette to Draco. She was wearing only jeans, a tank top and a thin pink crocheted poncho; and the moon cast a shadow over the muscle in her right shoulder, where the poncho was falling off her arm. Because the poncho was offset, Draco could see a bit of her left side between the top and her jeans. There was an ever so slight roll of skin peeking out over the top of her jeans. It wasn't enough to make her seem chubby, but it was enough to drive Draco wild.

Draco half-smiled. Merlin, why did she have to be so gorgeous?

"Well?"

"I don't know, Hermione, you're the brains in this thing. You figure it out."

She sighed, exasperated. Why did she always have to be the mastermind? "There's nothing to figure out. They're going to be looking for me any minute now, and I don't know how you expect me to get away from them."

He smiled seductively and approached her. He pulled on the belt loops on each side of her waist and pulled her body into his.

She tried to stay stationary, but he was pulling her more forcefully than she could hold off, so she gave up and stumbled into him. She refused to make eye contact, and stayed silent; but he was planting light, ticklish kisses on her neck. She couldn't help but laugh and squirm away from him. "Alright, alright. I'll think of something. Just, get out of here and wait for me at the end of the road."

"And then what are we going to do? Shag in the middle of the road for all the people in their houses to look out and see?" He asked, somewhat smugly; but then after thinking it over, thought that maybe it didn't sound like a bad idea.

"No, pervert. I thought I'd take you someplace a little more private." She wiggled her eyebrows flirtatiously and began to walk briskly to the front door of the Burrow, wondering how in Merlin's name she was supposed to get away from the house tonight. She was almost to the door when she passed in front of a garden light and noticed there was an extra shadow behind her. She spun around, fearfully, to see Draco following quietly behind her. "What are you doing?" She put her hand on her hip and stared him down. _I swear, he's like a child, sometimes._

"I'll wait right here for you. We can go to this 'special place' together." He smiled, hoping she would allow him to stay. He knew it was childish, but he just wanted to be close to her for as long as possible.

"No, it's too risky. I'll be right there, just go." She rolled her eyes and continued to the door. As she suspected, he didn't listen to her. She sighed and turned back around. "Listen…"

She was interrupted by the front door opening and Harry stepping onto the front porch. Luckily, before Harry saw her with Draco, she was able whip out her wand and fix the situation.

"Hermione? Oh, hello, Neville. What a nice surprise." Harry walked outside and shook Draco's hand.

Hermione suppressed a giggle as Draco looked at his recently transformed body, and put a nasty scowl on Neville Longbottom's face. It was a look that definitely suited Draco better than Neville.

Draco tried to greet him pleasantly, but found it highly difficult. "Potter."

Hermione cleared her throat when he greeted Harry by his last name.

Draco cleared his own throat to cover his mistake. "Harry, how are you?"

"Well, thanks. Would you like to come inside?"

"No." Draco received a glare from Hermione. "Thanks?" Was that what she was trying to get him to say?

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of all people for Draco Malfoy to impersonate, why on earth had she picked Neville? He was way too polite for Draco to pull it off. It looked like she was going to have to handle this. "Neville was just visiting some cousins that live down the road. He saw me walking outside and stopped to say hello."

Harry nodded his head, understandingly. "Wonderful. I didn't know you had family in the neighborhood.'

Draco cleared his throat again. "Oh, yeah. Um, I don't see them very much. They're very distant relatives."

"Right, well, you're sure you wouldn't like to come in for some tea? Fred and George were just showing off some new products."

Draco shook his head furiously. No way was he going to step foot into the Weasleys, disguised as Neville Longbottom or not. If he didn't like Hermione so much, he wouldn't have even been on their front lawn. "No, I really must be going. Goodnight." Draco held up a hand to wave goodbye, and glared at a humored Hermione as he walked through the front gate and down the road to their decided meeting place.

"That was funny." Harry took another look at the disappearing form as he walked towards the house with Hermione. "Neville was acting a bit peculiar tonight, don't you think?"

Hermione looked down the road as well. "Maybe. But you know how it can be spending time with relatives. He's probably just flustered. I know I used to get aggravated with my family." She felt sad all of a sudden, at the mention of her family. She did miss them, more than she'd planned.

"Sure, I guess so." Harry shook off the wondering feeling that he had. "Let's go inside, shall we?" He held his arm out to Hermione, who linked her elbow with his. They walked together into the house, where Hermione faked drowsiness and told them she was going to bed.

Everyone tried to get her to stay up for some more fun, but eventually gave in and bade her goodnight. Hermione paced the length of her bedroom apprehensively. She had two options: either disapparate out of the room and risk them hearing the loud, distinctive 'pop' that goes along with it; or try this the old muggle way, and climb out the window. She knew that disapparting was, by far, the easiest way. But she also knew that if they happened to hear it, they would know for sure what it was. She was also _pretty_ sure she could make it out the window. All she had to do was climb out onto the lower roof, avoid falling off the steep incline, and after she made it around the side of the house, she could easily shimmy down the pillar to the ground below.

After hastily making her decision, she looked in her mirror for a quick glance at her appearance. She fluffed her curly hair a little bit, trying desperately to tame a few wild strands, and adjusted the waist of her jeans so that the stupid surplus of body fat she hated so much, was well hidden. She rubbed a small amount of raspberry and vanilla lotion on her stomach, because she knew Draco loved the smell, and rubbed her hands together vigorously as she exited the window. She made sure to leave it cracked so she could get back in later, and used her left hand to steady herself against the side of the house as she slowly walked across the roof, trying her best not to look down. She almost slipped a few times, but made it to the edge with minimal problems. After climbing halfway down the ivy-covered post, fiddling with the leg of her jeans that got caught in a vine for five minutes, she made her way towards the ground, jumped the last couple meters, and landed on her hands and knees with a faint thud.

Dusting off her hands as she ran, she checked back at the Burrow to make sure no one had seen her. There were no signs of it, so she sped up to get to the end of the road as fast as she could. It had been a long time since she'd been with Draco, and she couldn't wait to have him again.

As she approached the dark figure standing in front of the moonlight, she slowed her run to a brisk walk. She noticed that the figure was slightly thicker than Draco's. _Oops._

Draco noticed Hermione's footsteps behind him, and he turned around, happy that she was finally there, but angry that she had turned him into Longbottom and not changed him back. "Granger, change me back. Now."

It was strange to hear such a menacing voice coming from Neville, and Hermione couldn't stifle a giggle she'd had since she transformed him earlier.

"I'm not kidding. Do it." He looked at her with the most malicious stare he could muster. He'd found it hard to be smug towards her, lately; at least not seriously. He wondered what that meant, sometimes.

"I don't know, maybe this would be kind of fun." She tried her hardest to keep the joke going, and not to gag when she approached his lips…the lips of Neville Longbottom. Neville was a good friend, and she liked him a lot, but the thought of kissing him made her toes curl.

It took a lot on Draco's part, too, not to kiss her. He kept reminding himself that he looked like Neville Longbottom, and that he couldn't possibly kiss her like that. What if she liked it better than his kisses? He put a smirk on his face at the thought. _Not possible._

"Hermione, I'm not going to kiss you until you change me back." Maybe he'd just have to resort to threats.

"Oh? And you think you can resist me longer than I can resist the real you?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, _Gryffindor_?"

"That depends, _Slytherin_. Are you sure you want to do this?" She moved closer to him, and caressed his cheek. She didn't bother to look into his eyes, like she would have liked to, because they weren't really Draco's eyes. They were Neville's, and they just weren't good enough.

Nobody's eyes were as good as Draco's. Hermione was afraid to look at him at times, because it just felt like she could get lost in them. Though if she absolutely _had_ to get lost, she decided, Draco's stormy gray eyes were the perfect place.

oooooooooooooooo

_I didn't like to give in. I was stubborn, everybody knew it; and I'd come to realize it, too. But for some reason, I didn't mind giving in to Draco. He was the only person other than my three best friends that I ever let my guard down for. And sometimes, I think that's what destroyed me. But at other times, I make myself admit that I was the one to blame for my misfortune, not him. But I still blame him for making me vulnerable._

_I never was until I got to know Draco; vulnerable, I mean. No, I was strong, and stable. Panicky, at times, but I was never what you would call a 'wreck.' _

_But now, I'm a wreck. And I trace lots of things back to that night, when I snuck out to meet him._

_After I finally gave in and changed Draco back into his normal body, I led him down this old, over-grown dirt path. I found the place one day when I was sneaking out to apparate into his office. It was far enough away form the Burrow that nobody would see me, so it was perfect for me to use as a cover. _

_I wanted to take Draco there, because I knew he would love it. It was much like the first place we slept together. Instead of a river, there was a pond; a small one, but still perfectly beautiful. And instead of a Willow tree, there were lots of maple trees, circling around and surrounding the perfectly beautiful patch of water._

_It was the perfect place to come to fall in love. If only that's what I had planned on doing there. _

_No, I didn't plan on falling in love. And I don't think I did at that moment. But I took a dramatic step in that direction. And I think it's because it was the first time I had sex with Draco without getting completely plastered beforehand. And I think it changed something for us._

_I don't know if he noticed or not, and I kind of hoped he didn't, because I just wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to go there. I had no problem giving him my body, because he gave his in return. But I wasn't ready to give him my heart. I wasn't ready to give anyone my heart, actually, but certainly not Draco. Because I knew, that no matter how much I'd grown to trust him in the last few months, and how close we got, that I would never get his heart in return. I knew he treasured it too much to share with anyone other than Pansy Parkinson._

_So I refused to fall in love with him. And I hoped he didn't take that night to be anything more than the physical act that it was…that it always was. I hate to admit it, even today, but I needed him. He was the only person that I was completely honest with, those days, and if I didn't have him to talk to and to comfort me, I don't know what I would have done._

oooooooooooooooo

Draco hated to admit it, but he needed her. And tonight, he'd begun to think that just maybe, she needed him, too. He noticed that this was the first time they'd slept together, completely sober. And it was wonderful. The only scary part was that he couldn't blame all his feelings on the alcohol.

He didn't want to have those feelings, but he couldn't help it. It was too soon, he had to keep telling himself that; but it didn't make any difference to his heart. His heart didn't care if he wasn't ready to love again. His heart didn't care that it was only supposed to belong to one person. His heart didn't care that Hermione didn't love him back. All it wanted was her.

He tried to calm the fluttering in his chest as he quietly roamed the halls of his family's mansion. It was dark, but he could easily see the familiar territory. Everything was in its right place, down to the very last centimeter. The marble statue of his grandfather, Abraxas, the sculpted silver serpents' heads that were mounted on the wall, the hall table with the sunflowers his mother loved, the…

The only thing that was out of place was the shadow at the end of the hallway. Draco did, however, easily recognize it as the one that belonged to his father.

Should he speak first or wait?

Draco swallowed. "Good evening, father." He was surprised by the pleasant sound coming from his own mouth.

Lucius didn't say anything, but walked dramatically in front of a stained glass window, allowing the moonlight to shine through and illuminate his pale skin in a brilliant shade of green.

"What keeps you up so late?" Draco continued his string of manners, all the while wondering where in the hell it was coming from. He'd never seemed this happy to see his father before.

"I was waiting for you."

Draco was shocked. His father had never waited up for him, before. Could it be that he was actually starting to act like the real father of a teenager? "For me?"

"Yes, son. It seems you and I have a few things to discuss."

"And what's that?" Draco wrinkled his eyebrow. He tried to think. Did he do something he should get in trouble for? Blow off work? A meeting, perhaps? No, he couldn't think of a thing.

"Have you thought anymore about my request?' Lucius spoke in a voice very similar to Severus Snape's. Draco had noticed that his father started that after Snape was killed in the war. He suspected that his father missed his old friend, and that maybe he was a little less indomitable than he let on.

"Father, it's late."

"I need to know, Draco. One way or the other."

"Why do you need to know?"

Lucius shrugged and spoke unconvincingly. "No reason."

Draco wasn't buying it. He knew his father and something was up. "Dad, are you planning something?"

"Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Draco eyed Lucius, trying to get a read on what was really going on in he older man's mind. No success. Lucius had blocked him out.

"Trying to use Leglimency on your old man, Draco?" Lucius all but laughed at his son's failed attempt.

"Just tell me what you're up to, and I'll give you my decision." Draco rolled his eyes. There were a lot of things he hated about this world. But being criticized, ridiculed, or sometimes even thought of by his father, was at the top of his list.

"So you have made a decision?"

Draco sighed in frustration. The man would never just tell Draco what was going on! He had this annoying habit of answering everything with another question. It was bloody unbearable! "Dad, tell me the truth. You're planning an uprising, aren't you?"

Lucius didn't say anything, but smirked at his son as usual.

_He is! I knew it!_ "Father, you can't do this! It's a horrible idea!"

Lucius grinned. "I guess this means you've chosen your side."

"I haven't chosen anything. There shouldn't be anything to choose from. You have to stop. I can't do all this again. Not yet, it's all too soon."

Lucius seemed to consider it for a moment. Okay, maybe Draco was right. Forming a dark wizard army right now would be an advantage because no one was expecting it. But at the same time, it was very soon after the last war, and other dark wizards would be less likely to join so quickly, not until they had time to heal and build up their strength again. "You're right, son."

Draco was surprised, yet again, by his father. He'd always seen him as predictable, but in the last two important conversations they had shared, Lucius thoroughly surprised Draco.

He watched as Lucius grinned and walked back towards his and Narcissa's bedroom, leaving, again, with mystery in the air. "Wait, I'm right about what?'

What was Lucius planning? An uprising? A battle? Another war, even? What? Draco needed to know.

"You're right Draco. It's getting late. You should go to bed."

Draco furrowed his brow as Lucius disappeared from the hallway, wondering when he had said it was getting late and then remembered it was his first line of defense when Lucius started asking these ridiculous questions. He turned in the direction of his own bedroom and rubbed the back of his head, trying to work out a headache. You know, one of those really bad ones that hurt in the back of your head? The ones you don't stand a chance of getting to? The ones Draco always gets? Yeah, that kind.

After proving unsuccessful in relieving his throbbing head, Draco plopped down on his bed and breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to lay in his bed. He decided it would feel better if Hermione was lying there with him, though.

After all the 'excitement' with his father, it had nearly made him forget about his way more exciting night with Hermione. He smiled. He was still able to smell her familiar scent lingering on his hands. _Raspberry and vanilla? I think?_

He adjusted himself in the bed, so that he was lying face down, and snuggled his face into the pillow; just hoping to have a dream about her as he slept.

oooooooooooooooo

Hermione lay facedown on her bed, crying softly into her pillow. She'd just gotten back from her 'date' with Draco, and as usual, had written a letter, finished off the bottle of vodka hidden in her sock drawer, and went to bed with a headache tear-filled eyes.

None of it made any sense. She wasn't supposed to feel happy when she was with Draco. _He_ wasn't supposed to make her happy. But somehow, she felt her second-best with him. (Her absolute best was with a bottle is whiskey.)

Of course, if she allowed herself to be happy with him, then she wasn't supposed to be sad, too…right? Because she was also sad; very sad. The happier he made her, the sadder she got. And that's the part that didn't make any sense.

She finally felt like she'd gotten to the place where the sadness in her life was almost offset by the joy. And even though she loved spending time with Draco, and she felt happy about her feelings toward him, she couldn't help but feel guilty at the same time. She just knew that things were going to well at the moment; and that it was just about time for something awful to happen again.

oooooooooooooooo

_It was my first job interview. After having a good cry with Ginny and taming my wild hair, I apparated to the Ministry of Magic for my interview for the Department of Wizard Intervention. It was a new department that was established to prevent the formation of dark magic armies. I was almost a shoo-in for the position of case manager, meaning I would be handling the planning and carrying out of interventions._

_For the first part of the interview, it went really well. I had all the qualities they were looking for. Then they asked about my experience. And my only experience with dark magic was the war…that I wasn't up for discussing with anyone other than Harry, Ginny or Draco._

_The interviewer explained to me that if I wasn't willing to discuss my experience with the war, then I probably needed a job that was less stressful and didn't involve dark magic. I really needed the job, so I tried to talk. All that came out was tears. Needless to say, I didn't get a second interview._

_All I wanted to do was go back to the Burrow and crawl into bed. But since memories from the war were already on my mind, I figured the Burrow would just make me think of Ron. So instead of apparating home, I walked through London to a liquor store to do some shopping, and then apparated into Draco's office at his family's investment firm._

oooooooooooooooo

December 9, 2004

There was a protection charm on the individual offices at the Malfoys' company, so Hermione was forced to apparate into the lobby. It was busier than she'd imagined, but it was early afternoon and Hermione had never been there at that time of day. She'd only ever been at night or early in the morning, before daybreak. It looked a lot different in the daylight.

She had apparated in a hurry, so her hair and clothing were disorderly. She took a moment to check her reflection in the black marble wall, complete with the Malfoy Crest and little green and silver flecks embedded in it. After smoothing out her black A-line skirt and adjusting her white, cropped jacket so that the lacy neckline of her black camisole was clearly visible, she ran a hand through her thick hair. She didn't know why she was so concerned with her appearance. She was just getting ready to drink, cry and have sex with Draco, anyway. She sighed and began to walk the familiar path to Draco's office. She was stopped at a security checkpoint, where she was flagged on the bottle of red wine in her bag.

"Birthday present, for Draco Malfoy."

The guard looked at her suspiciously. "I didn't know it was Mr. Malfoy's birthday."

"Sure it is." With a flick of her wand Hermione made a big silver bow and tag wrap around the bottle. "See?"

"Okay." He handed the bottle back to her, which she stuffed back in the bag. "His office is around the corner and down the hall."

She didn't respond. She already knew where the office was, thank you very much. She got to his private lobby, where the secretary stopped her. She rolled her eyes, frustrated with all the security. She didn't have to go through all this late at night, when she and Draco were the only ones there. "I'm here to see Draco…uh, Mr. Malfoy." She decided it sounded more official and would be more likely to get her through the door.

"Name?" Her voice was squeaky, but kind.

"Hermione Granger."

"Just a moment." She pressed a button on her desk. "Mr. Malfoy, there's a Hermione Granger here to see you."

"Send her in." Hermione heard Draco's voice come from a speaker, sounding deeper than normal.

The secretary nodded to Hermione, who proceeded rather anxiously through the door. When she entered, she saw that Draco was rather relaxed, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk and hands behind his head.

"Well, well, Hermione. This is a nice surprise." Her greeted her with a smile.

She didn't say anything, but pulled out the bottle of wine.

Draco's smile dropped a little. "It's not champagne, so I take it you didn't get the job?"

Hermione clicked her tongue. "Nope." She walked across the office to put the bottle on his clean desk.

"What's with the bow?" He examined the small tag that was attached, which read 'happy birthday.' "I didn't know it was my birthday." He looked at her incredulously.

"Yeah, neither did the security guard." She sat her bag in the floor beside her chair and crossed her legs.

Draco smirked, amused. Either she was cleverer than he ever thought or he had a really dull security staff.

"Well, are you going to do the honors or should I open it?" She wasn't wasting any time, and Draco noticed.

He didn't answer, but just looked at her sad face. "Hermione, what happened?"

She waited for a minute, not looking up from picking at her fingernails. "They wanted me to talk about it."

Draco didn't need any further explanation. He picked up the bottle and uncorked it. He pulled out two wine glasses from the refreshment bar to the right of his marble desk, filled them to the brim, and handed one to Hermione as she came to join him on the black leather couch. Draco made himself comfortable and held his glass in Hermione's direction. "Let's make a toast…"

"Let's not." Hermione took a large gulp and stuck out her tongue at the bitter taste. It was the first time she'd ever tasted wine.

"Okay." Draco raised his eyebrows and followed suit, though somewhat more mannerly.

"Yuck. How do you drink this stuff all the time?" She sat the glass down on the end table and kicked off her black ballet flats before stretching her legs out on the couch.

He chuckled at her face, which resembled that of a four-year-old eating broccoli. "I'm used to it. I've been drinking wine at my parents' parties since I was about thirteen." He took another elegant sip.

Hermione was on the opposite end of the couch with her legs stretched out towards Draco. Her toes were absentmindedly playing with a keychain that was sticking out of his pocket.

Draco was fully aware of this, and kept glancing down at her cute red toenails. He felt something inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time. The memory of the feeling pained his heart, so he took another drink to wash it away. _Pansy always had cute toes_, he thought. He took a larger sip, finishing off the glass and suppressing that thought, too. "Hey, do you want to get out of here?" He sat the glass on the marble end table so hard that it startled Hermione.

"Um, sure. But can you just leave?"

"It's my dad's company."

"I know. That's why I'm asking." She knew that Lucius was really hard on Draco.

He shrugged. "I don't really care. I'm just dong this so I don't have to…" he paused for a moment, hoping Hermione didn't pick up on his hesitation. "…do other things."

She had, indeed, noticed. "Like what?" She asked suspiciously. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her.

"I don't know. He'd always find some way to occupy me with things I hate."

"Right," Hermione agreed. She knew that there was something more, but she was willing to let it go at that. For now, at least.

"Alright, so, what do you want to do?" He clapped his hands together.

"I don't know." She glanced over at her nearly full glass of wine. "The usual, I guess."

"I have an idea." He snapped his fingers as he hurried to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Faye?"

"Yes, sir?" The voice came through the speakers, and Hermione noted that her voice also sounded deeper over the intercom.

"I'm going to be out of the office for the rest of the day. Will you please reschedule my appointments?"

"But sir…the Seymour Account?" She quickly reminded him of the most important meeting.

"Oh, right." He thought for a second. "Call Allison upstairs, and tell her to inform my father that Mr. Seymour will be meeting with him today, call Mr. Seymour's assistant and let her know of the schedule change, and have Megan run the file upstairs before he gets here."

"Yes, sir."

Draco released the button and took his coat off the rack. "He thinks he's better with everything, anyway."

Hermione nodded, still wondering what his big idea was. "Are you sure about this? I know how important it is for you to impress your father."

For a moment, Draco looked angry, but he dropped his guard after realizing that she was just being nice, not condescending. "Yeah, well, as much as I've let him down in the past, I'm not sure there's any coming back from it."

"Draco, it will be fine…"

"No. If you knew what he wants me to do now, you'd just…" He clenched his fist in frustration. "There's not much hope for me and my father. Trust me." He held his hand out to her.

Hermione smiled and joined his side, taking his hand. He pulled her closer to him, half-hugging her so they could disapparate. She spun on the spot with him and watched as they moved through cold, dark space. She wasn't sure where they were going, but it seemed to be taking a while to get there. The air started to get warmer and the scenery started coming into view as they neared their destination. Hermione stumbled away from Draco and he had to grab her arm to stabilize her when they arrived.

"Whoa. Are you okay?" he couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm fine. I'm just not used to side-along apparition." She held her head as the dizziness was wearing off. She looked around at her surroundings. They were in what looked like a foyer. The ceiling was high…two stories, and there was a gorgeous chandelier above them. It was silver with lots of hanging crystals, with a few hanging emeralds on the middle ring. In front of them stood two opposing staircases, each curved away from each other. At the foot of the banisters on each side, there was a statue of a dragon head. Hermione walked toward it and ran her hand along the smooth surface. The carving was beautiful. "What's it made of?"

"Silver." Draco stood in the original spot, watching her explore the room.

She slowly turned around, looking at the room. "Is this…" she spotted the Malfoy Crest above the large double doors, which looked like the belong in a dungeon instead of a house. "…Malfoy Manor?"

Draco shrugged. "I just call it home."

Hermione continued to look around. She'd been here last spring, but it didn't look the same. "It's different than I remember."

Draco's eyes widened. He'd forgotten that she'd already seen his house...and been tortured there. "Right, well…" He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. "Things were different then."

Hermione noticed his discomfort. "It's not your fault."

Draco nodded, not so sure he believed that. "Why are you so forgiving?"

She shrugged. "It's over now. And I'm sad, but I know you are, too. You lost as much as I did in the war. There's no reason for me to play the victim."

"You're a lot different that I thought you were."

"How so?" She let her eyes wander around the room some more.

"I don't know. I just always though you were uptight and stubborn; and I thought you hated me."

She turned to him quickly. "No, I never hated you." She sat down on the cold marble steps. "I really disliked you a lot of times, but I never hated you."

Draco half-smiled. "Really?"

Hermione nodded.

"And now?" the words escaped his lips before he could stop himself. His heart was beating out of his chest, and didn't have any idea why.

Hermione knew she looked surprised. She knew it. And she looked nervous; she knew that too. What she didn't know was why he cared. "Um…"

"Never mind." Draco turned away from her and pretended to straiten some candlesticks on a shelf, trying to regain his composure. _Idiot._ He mentally scorned himself. He couldn't believe he let that slip.

"Draco, are you alright?" She stood up and approached him.

"I'm fine."

"Do you want to hear my answer?"

"It's okay. You don't have to. I don't even know what I was…"

"Now, I know that I was wrong about you." She watched the back of his head, waiting for him to turn around. When he didn't, she put her hand, hesitantly, to his back. She saw his body jerk under her touch. "You're not perfect, Draco, but I like being around you. I like talking to you. You understand things…my things, and I like that. I like hearing about your life."

"Even after everything I've done to you?"

"I'm sick of feeling angry and sad, Draco. I'm sick of blaming other people for the things I've screwed up."

"You didn't do anything. I was the one who started the whole thing in the Room of Requirement. You had nothing to do with it."

"No, no. You're not allowed to blame yourself, either." She sighed. "We've got to get this together, Draco. It doesn't make any sense. It's been months. We can't keep blaming ourselves."

"Wow. What kind of wine did you get anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that was one hell of a speech, Granger." He smiled at her, feeling a rousing in the pit of his stomach, He kissed her as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the grand staircase and down the long hallway to his bedroom.

oooooooooooooooo

_I didn't start crying until I left Malfoy Manor. I didn't want to upset Draco, or make him think that any of this was his fault, because it wasn't. I was solely responsible for the situation I'd put myself in. It was my fault that I fell in love with him._

_I apparated about a half a mile from the Burrow, giving myself a little way to walk and clear my head. The same thoughts kept flashing in my mind, in no particular order. _How could I let this happen? What would Ron say? What would Harry and Ginny say? I can't wait to see Draco again. I wonder if he loves me too. _It was all very overwhelming, and I simply couldn't keep it in my head any longer. I started running, ignoring the snow that was just beginning to fall, and taking longer strides so that my feet wouldn't hit the ground quite so much, and have to endure the jagged rocks trying to poke through the thin soles of my shoes._

_I finally reached the Burrow, sneaked into my bedroom beside Ginny's, and seized my parchment and quill I had hidden beneath my bed. I was already out of breath from running, and as soon as I tipped the quill in ink and let the first droplet stain the paper, my tears began to fall again, further inhibiting my breathing._

_With a mere moment's hesitation, I began to write. I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say, all the things I wanted to admit and wished I could take back or at least say to Ron in person. I didn't even know where to begin, but I somehow filtered all the thoughts into a recognizable format. I began the letter as I always did. _

My Dearest Ronald…

…Love, Hermione.

Hermione let one last tear stain the parchment in front of her. She folded it, rolled it up and tied a black ribbon around it. "I'm so sorry, Ron." She fought back a sob and kissed the roll of parchment. "I'm sorry I let you go back. I'm sorry I slept with him…"

Ginny was walking to her room when she heard a sobbing coming from Hermione's room. _Oh Merlin, she must have blown her interview._ Ginny took a deep breath before approaching the door to here the end of Hermione's conversation with herself.

"…and…I'm sorry I fell in love with him." She began to cry even harder. She covered her face with her hands and curled up in the floor, dropping the piece of parchment and allowing it to roll across the unleveled floor, to stop just at Ginny's bare foot. "Gin!"

Ginny looked uneasily at Hermione. She wasn't sure what she just heard. "Hermione?" She picked up the parchment, noticing a whole basket full at the foot of Hermione's bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard you crying."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Hermione, what's going on?" She held the scroll in her hand. It had Ron's name on the outside, and places of it felt wet.

"Nothing." Hermione tried to force herself to stop crying. She didn't like the way Ginny was looking at that scroll; she was afraid Ginny was about to open it.

"You said you're sorry for…what, again?" She changed her tone to be slightly accusatory.

"Um, just that I…I didn't get the job." She shrugged, hoping Ginny bought it.

"You're lying."

"What? No I'm not."

"Hermione, I can't handle you lying to me right now. What the hell is going on?" This time she raised her voice, just like Ron always did when he was accusing Hermione of something, she noticed.

Hermione began to shiver. She just hoped to Merlin that Ginny didn't come to her senses and open that scroll. "Ginny…" she started to tear up again.

Ginny looked at the scroll in her hand. She knew she'd be a bitch for opening Hermione's personal property, but she couldn't help herself, and it obviously had to do with her brother. She looked to Hermione, who looked scared and shameful; and them she tore the ribbon off the scroll.

"Ginny, no!" Hermione jumped towards where Ginny was standing, but Ginny had run into the hallway, frantically unrolling the parchment. She stopped dead in the middle of the hall. She turned on her heel to look at Hermione with wide, furious eyes.

_Oh, Merlin. _Hermione stood in her doorway, knowing it was too late to grab the letter from Ginny now. She'd already read it, and looked like she wanted to kill Hermione. As a precaution, Hermione placed her hand on her wand that was lying on the desk just inside the door.

Ginny was seething. She only took her eyes off Hermione long enough to reread the letter, and them looked to her again. Hermione's blank expression just angered Ginny that much more. She slowly pulled her wand from her pocket and raised it.

"Ginny…"

"Malfoy?" Ginny ignored her. "You're shagging Malfoy?" She yelled loud enough for the whole house to hear. Hermione just hoped that no one else heard.

"I love him," she choked out. Hermione almost wanted to take it back, but it was too late to even think about it now. She pulled her own wand to her side.

"Expelliarmis!"

Hermione's wand flew out of her hand. She reached for it, but Ginny kicked the wand down the hall, and raised hers to Hermione's nose.

"Leave it."

"Ginny, please."

"Shut up before I knock out those beaver teeth of yours."

On this note, Harry cautiously rounded the corner of the hallway. He didn't know what was going on, but when he saw his girlfriend pointing her wand at his tearful friend, he knew it wasn't anything good. "Uh, Gin?" He approached them carefully.

Hermione looked at Harry, relieved that he had stepped in before Ginny hexed her into oblivion.

"Harry, don't," Ginny warned. She never took her eyes away from Hermione's, but put enough emphasis in her words to get her point across, or so she thought.

"Ginny, calm down." He held a hand out cautiously, moving (stupidly) almost between the two.

She huffed. "Harry, I said…"

"What happened?" He cut her off and looked at both girls for an explanation.

When Ginny didn't say anything, Hermione took it as her chance to explain. She turned to Harry and put her hands on his forearms, hysterically. "Harry, I can explain. I didn't mean to…"

When Ginny saw Hermione move to Harry, she threw a heating curse to her hands. It wasn't enough to hurt her badly, just to scare her a little.

Hermione and Harry jumped away from each other, being burned by the curse upon contact.

"Keep your traitorous hands off my boyfriend you little slut." She glanced to the boy beside her. "Sorry, Harry." She hadn't meant for Harry to get burned.

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she held her hands together painfully, trying to relinquish the sting. She was shocked, and angry that Ginny would call her that, but she took it. The last time she reacted to someone calling her an offensive name, it resulted in two deaths.

"Ginny!" Harry rubbed his arms, trying to cool them. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

"She's sleeping with Malfoy!" She screamed at him.

Harry's eyes widened and he looked at Hermione, whose tears were streaming down her face. He looked back and forth between the two. He didn't know whom to believe, until he realized that Hermione hadn't disputed the accusation.

"She has been for months! And she's been writing these bloody letters," she angrily kicked at the parchment in the floor, " to Ron, apologizing for it."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I don't believe this."

"Tell him!" Ginny raised her wand to Hermione, again, when she didn't say anything. "Tell him, Hermione."

"Alright, I think we need to get rid of this." Harry quickly stepped forward and put his hand on Ginny's wand, difficultly pulling it away.

Hermione tried to choke it out, but her words were incomprehensible.

Harry, too, was angry. Of all the people in the world, she picked Malfoy. But there was no room in this hallway for another hysterical person, so he was forced to be the levelheaded one. "I think we need to just sit down…"

"I want you out of this house," Ginny completely ignored Harry, and crossed her arms, since she didn't have her wand to threaten Hermione with anymore.

"W-what?"

"What?" Harry was just as stunned as Hermione.

"You heard me. Get your things, and get out of my house. I don't ever want to see you within a mile of this place again."

"But, Gin…"

"Ginny, come one. Let's be reasonable." Harry put a hand on her shoulder, which she shook off angrily.

"You want to go with her?"

Harry remained silent.

"I didn't think so." She shot another glare at Hermione before nudging Harry out of the way. She went in her bedroom and, as Harry tried to follow her, slammed the door loudly in his face.

Harry looked to Hermione, sadly. "Hermione…"

She shook her head, scrunching up her face as another wave of tears broke through her eyes. She sniffed and picked her wand up out of the floor. She stepped back into her bedroom, and with a wave of her wand, watched her things magically pack themselves.

"Hermione, don't do this." Harry pleaded with her, putting a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. He didn't agree with what she was doing with Malfoy, but he couldn't lose her, not after everything they'd been through together, and not over something so stupid.

"I don't really have a choice, Harry. Ginny is clearly unforgiving in this matter, and I don't know what else I can do."

"We'll fix this, Hermione. We'll talk to her. We'll explain that you're sorry. We'll talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley if we have to…"

"No, Harry. I can't talk to them."

"Why not?"

"I've done something that was, regrettably, not a part of my best judgment. And I'd like to say I'd like to take it back. But I'm not going to do that. It wouldn't do any good to try and wish it away, Harry. I'm sorry that I betrayed Ron, and you, and Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys. But you have to understand, that telling everyone else what I did would just hurt them even more."

"They're going to find out, Hermione. No one can keep a secret in this house."

She smiled, sadly. "I did. For six moths, I kept the biggest secret of my life."

"Six months isn't long enough for everyone to forget."

"No, but it will give me enough time to get away." She smiled, in spite of herself. She was coming to terms with this whole leaving thing relatively quickly, and felt like this moment was one of clarity.

Harry's breath began to quicken. He watched as she hurried to gather her things. She was slipping away, and he didn't know what to do. He'd already lost one friend, and he didn't think he would even make it if he lost another. He'd been so overprotective of Hermione since Ron died, because he couldn't bear to see her hurt. But now he felt so stupid, because she'd been seeing Malfoy right under his nose for six months! He'd failed to protect her; he hadn't kept her safe. And now he was losing Hermione to the same evil he lost Ron to. "Hermione, please don't go. I really can't..."

"Harry, calm down. You'll be fine, I promise." She kissed him on the forehead as she picked up her bags.

Harry opened his mouth to plead with her again, but she cut him off.

"Not another word, I want to leave with some dignity, if you don't mind." She put on a playful smirk. "I think I've probably overstayed my welcome, anyway."

"That's not true, Hermione! You're welcome here anytime, you know that."

"Yes, Harry, I appreciate that. It's sweet. But you're forgetting something: this isn't your house, either, and you can't just go around making decisions about the guests here. Ginny has spoken, and as much as I hate it, I'm not going to fight her. I may have lost a lot of me since last June, but I'm still smart, and I'm never going to be dumb enough to cross Ginerva Weasley." She laughed a little at Ginny's full name, just wanting to say it so she could find some humor. Her tears were now gone, and she was forcing herself to at least seem positive and optimistic, just in case she ran into any more of the family on her way out. She wanted to make a clean break, and to do that, she'd have to make this seem like it was her decision.

Hermione walked down the stairs and sat her things on the front porch, taking in one last look at the house. Harry was beside her, ready to see her off. "So, where are you going to go?"

Hermione took a deep breath and thought about it for a while. "I don't know yet."

"Well, do you promise to let me know when you do?"

She smiled, implying her answer to be 'no,' and caressed the side of Harry's face. "Take care, Harry."

And just like that, Hermione Granger was gone. She apparated to Merlin knows where, and left Harry speechless on the front porch, tears threatening to flood from his eyes. He wiped his foggy glasses with his shirttail and watched the sky for hours, until the sun began to set. He took what was intended to be a calming breath, and forced himself to believe that Hermione would be okay. He didn't know where she was going, or what she would do when she got there; and he was likely to never see her again, but he knew that she was strong, and she would make it. He just hoped that he would.

Hermione, too, was watching the setting sun from the window of her temporary flat above the Leaky Cauldron, in Diagon Alley. She didn't have anywhere else to go, and knew that it would be getting dark soon, so she went to the pub and asked the bartender, Tom, if she could have a room for the night. All she had to do was drop Harry Potter's name to be considered, and after that, it was relatively easy to get the room.

She sighed. She knew that her life had just taken a drastic turn for the worst. Today, when she was with Draco, everything seemed to fit into place. She was in love, again. It was something she never thought she could do in her life, but it had happened. It should have been happy, and in a sense, it was; but overall it had ruined her life. She was practically homeless; she had no friends other than Draco. And she was about to lose him.

Hermione picked up the letter she'd written only moments ago, breaking things off with Draco. She knew it was shady of her to break up with him by owl, but it was the best she could do right now. She didn't want him to know where she was, and she didn't want to see him. This seemed like the only way.

She didn't want to, but she allowed herself to cry. It wasn't fair, she thought. And she was right. After losing a loved one a mere six months earlier, it didn't seem right to lose another now. But she'd made up her mind. She had to do this. She'd let her emotions ruin enough of her life, and it was time she took control. And if that meant eliminating the sources of those emotions…then so be it.

After tying the letter to the owl she borrowed from the Leaky Cauldron and watching it fly off into the sunset, she wiped her tears from her face and changed into some clean clothes. She pocketed a few galleons and set off in pursuit of the one thing that always made her feel better…

"Gin and tonic." She sat down at the bar stool, tossing a galleon on the bar. "And keep them coming."

The place was fairly crowded, with people dancing on tables, shooting pool, and loud music coming from the speakers in the four corners of the pub. As she stared into the drink that Tom promptly sat in front of her, she actually took the time to think about whether or not she wanted to do it. Wasn't she supposed to be starting over, with a clean slate? If so, then why was she going back to her old habits of drinking to ease the pain?

Why? She could tell you why.

It's because nothing else worked, not for more than a few minutes, anyway. At least with alcohol, she could count on its incredible ability to numb her senses until the next morning.

So with her mind made up, she took the straw out of the glass, licked every last drop off of it, tossed it to the side, and downed the drink like there was no tomorrow.

oooooooooooooooo

**A/N: And there it is! I hope you liked it. Please be kind and send me a review to let me know how I'm doing with this! Each and every one is appreciated! Thanks again to Sophie and Pamela! I'm glad you guys like this story!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Okay, it's been a REALLY long time – I understand this. But I just couldn't get this finished! I've been writing it for – literally – months. I knew what I wanted to happen, I just couldn't quite get to it. I changed it a whole bunch of times, and I think I've gotten the right one. Let me know what you think about it and soooo sorry it took so long. But I really want to get back into writing this, because I've planned it out and everything! Thanks!

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 10, 2004**

_It's over, Draco. I'm so sorry._

Draco read the letter for the seventh time. He'd received it an hour ago, read it twice, destroyed the largest part of his bedroom, read it another three times, enlisted the help of his wand to make the letter burst into flames, regretted the decision, repaired the paper, and was now reading it again and again, replaying the same track of emotions like a record.

_I made a mistake. We made a mistake._

Draco tightened his grip on the page, causing it to wrinkle in a brand new place. This part of the letter made him the angriest - all seven times he saw it. It wasn't a mistake. He hadn't thought it was a mistake at all. Not one day.

_Ginny found out._

Of course she did. _Damn Weasel, _he thought. Draco didn't like her before, but now he wanted nothing more than to slap the freckles off her nosey little face.

_I've never seen her like that. She was so angry, Draco. I thought she was going to kill me._

Draco's breath increased, just thinking about what she wrote. If the little Weasley ever so much as touched Hermione, he would make sure it was the last time.

_She kicked me out._

Draco immediately began to worry again. Where the hell was she going to go? Did she not know she could come here? Of course she didn't know. Lucius wouldn't approve of such nonsense.

_I can't tell you where I am._

And just why the hell not? What did she think he was going to do to her? Kidnap her or something?

_Please don't come looking for me._

Yeah, that's going to happen. Like he was really going to just watch her walk out of his life without a fight.

_I'm serious, Draco. Don't look for me. You won't find me._

Draco actually smiled. He liked that she felt the need to repeat herself. It showed how well she really knew him.

_I need you to trust me._

Draco rolled his eyes. She knew he trusted her. She was one of the two people he ever had. He trusted her with his life.

_I need to change. I'm not the person I always wanted to be._

He knew that. He had known it from the first time he had a drink with her, He was sure she hadn't always wanted to be a drunk, but she was well on her way. Draco tried his best to keep her away from the booze. But he knew that it made her feel better, and sometimes he just didn't have the heart to take that away from her. To be honest, it made him feel better, too.

_Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine._

He knew she would. But would he be okay?

_There's just one more thing I need you to know. I debated telling you this…_

Draco took a deep breath and shifted in his seat, bracing himself for the words to come. He hadn't yet decided whether it was the best (best, meaning: the only good) part of the letter, or the most painful.

…_and I probably shouldn't say anything, because it doesn't make any difference in my decision. But, the whole reason that any of this happened was because…I love you._

Draco actually felt a tear fall. It was his seventh tear. He thought by now that he would be used to the girly script, but it seemed that after reading it so many times, the emotion behind the words was even more powerful than before. The way those three words were written was different from all the other words on the page. They were flowing, like she took her time to write them. Slowly - just like Draco imagined they would have been spoken. And tender - just like her sweet red-orange tinted lips.

Draco licked his own lips, just thinking about her. She loved him. She really, honestly loved him. It scared him to death, and he wasn't sure he was ready to admit it just yet, but he thought that - just maybe - he kind of sort of loved her back.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 14, 2004**

"Here you go, love."

"Thanks, Tom." Hermione took a bite of the turkey and mustard sandwich that the Leaky Cauldron's bartender had just made for her.

He leaned against his side of the bar. "How's it coming?"

She sighed. "Awful, actually." Folding her _Daily Prophet_ in half, the tossed it to the side to focus on her lunch. "Every job I find, I'm either unqualified, or it's terrible pay. And every flat I find, I couldn't possibly afford for months. I just don't know what to do." She poked at the bread, suddenly losing her appetite. Instead of turkey on wheat, she was craving another of her favorite concoctions.

"Miss Granger, I'm sorry, but I can't keep letting you live here for free."

"I know that, Tom. And I appreciate you letting me stay here the past week." She pushed her plate to the side, no longer finding any interest in the sandwich.

"Something wrong with your lunch?"

"No, I'm just not hungry anymore. Though I could go for the usual." She flashed a hopeful smile.

Tom shook his head and began to wipe down the bar with a wet rag. "Sorry, Miss Granger. I told you I'm not serving you any more alcohol."

"But why not? I'm responsible."

"You're under age."

"You didn't know that the first time." Hermione had just recently let it slip that she was only seventeen years old, by accident, of course. She hadn't had a drink in two days.

"But I know that now. And I'm not going to lose my license so you can drink at one o'clock in the afternoon."

"Oh come on!"

He gave her a stern look. "The only things I'm making for you from now on are sandwiches and fizzy drinks."

"But-"

He cut her off by sliding the paper in front of her. "Keep looking."

Hermione watched him walk to the back room. She childishly groaned and snatched the paper off the bar, hopping off the stool. She made her way to the opening to Diagon Alley, arranged the bricks on the wall, and walked through the new opening.

The alley was busy. It was almost Christmas, and many people were doing their last minute shopping. The shops were decorated with red and green, and the shopkeepers were outside shoveling snow away from their doors.

Hermione trudged through the snow, trying to button her red pea coat and finding it immensely difficult with her gloves on. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, but was sure that whatever it was, she wouldn't find it in Diagon Alley.

She continued to walk to the end of the alley, where it branched off into others, when something caught her eye. It was an owl - a solid black owl. She recognized it immediately. It was the same one that brought her a letter from Draco three days ago. The letter, (written in Draco's normal, nearly impossible to read, all capital letter script) had asked her to meet him, so that they could talk. She had ignored the letter, and just given the owl a cracker instead of a response. And now that very same owl was flying into the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and looked around. There was no one very near her, and she wondered what people would think if they saw her turning down Knockturn Alley. She looked down the dark alley, which had stairs leading from where she was standing. The owl was getting farther and farther away, so she hastily made the decision to follow it.

It was like she jumped into the alley, as if she were afraid of falling if she went too slowly. She landed on the top step, and she swore that all the sounds from the nearby busy street of Diagon Alley were instantly muted. All she could hear were she sounds of melting icicles, and the water pounding onto the cold concrete steps.

She took a deep breath, trying her damnedest to muster her Gryffindor courage, and hurriedly hopped down the stairs, quickly reaching the dirt path at the bottom. Knockturn Alley was much different from Diagon Alley. It was darker, colder, and nowhere near as busy as Hermione thought it should be this close to a holiday. She looked around at the shops. They, too, were different from the shops in Diagon Alley. Instead of being decorated in festive reds and greens, their windows were dust-covered, and the snow hadn't bothered to be shoveled away from the entrances.

Hermione looked around for the owl, but found it nowhere in sight, so she walked, somewhat timidly, through the alley. She received weary looks and stares from the few robed wizards that were lingering outside of the shops, and felt her skin turn colder the further into the alley she went. She wondered if there were an end to the alley, or if it just went on forever and turned into an icy abyss. _Of course it ends, idiot. How dull can you be?_ Hermione nearly laughed at her own stupidity. _An endless alley - honestly, Hermione. And you haven't even been drinking today._

Maybe that was part of the problem.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 10, 2004**

After much debate in his head, Draco knew what he had to do. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now, and he hoped that the note he'd just written to Hermione would cause her to reconsider - but he couldn't count on that. She was the only thing keeping him from agreeing to work with his father. And now that she had cut herself out of his life, he didn't see any reason to fight against the inevitable.

Draco checked his reflection in the hall mirror, outside his father's study. He looked closely - to make sure his face was as expressionless as possible, and that there was no evidence that he'd been crying. That would send his father into one _hell_ of a fit.

He took an encouraging breath before opening the door. Inside, it was clear of clutter, as it had always been when Draco was a child. He used to love sitting in this room while watching his father work. But tonight, Lucius was nowhere to be found.

Draco wandered over to a single bookcase, taking a second to run his hand across his favorite black velvet couch as he did so. He reached the bookcase, and momentarily skimmed the titles of the many books he'd spent countless hours reading, and had learned to love long before he went to Hogwarts.

_The Great Gatsby. Of Mice and Men. Romeo and Juliet. Moby Dick. Tom Sawyer. Hamlet. Julius Caesar…_

The names of his best childhood friends brought a smile to his face. He loved to read. Hermione loved to read. It was just one of the thousands of things he loved about her; one of those little things they had in common. And she never knew it. When Draco told her private things about his life, she was usually too drunk to remember past that moment. Maybe that's why he told her his secrets. He wanted to share them with someone he loved, someone who would understand. And the fact that she would forget it all seemed to make it easier for him. He told Hermione things he'd never told anyone, even Pansy. And now it was all over.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to stop thinking about Hermione and the day's events. He ran his hand along the underside of the bookshelf, searching for the hidden latch. He flipped it, and the bookcase moved ever so slightly to the right, allowing a cold, dusty draft to escape from the crack in the wall. Draco braced himself to enter the doorway as he pushed the shelf away.

He looked into the dark, descending stairway; a green glow was emitting from the basement below. Draco slowly walked towards the glow, and as he approached, began to heat the faint sounds of…rock music? What had gotten into his father?

"Well, well, my son finally visits." Lucius didn't even have to look. He could hear Draco's footsteps coming down the stairs to their hidden lair. "What can I do for you this evening?" His voice was very formal as he tossed a blue, glowing root into the potion in front of him; the explosion caused he and Draco to both shield their eyes.

Draco didn't speak, but looked into the cauldron on the table. "Veritaserum?" He cocked an eyebrow at the potion. What could his father possibly need a truth potion for?

Lucius was impressed that Draco could recognize the potion. It hadn't even turned clear yet. He made a mental note to remember his son's potions skills from now on. "Yes, that's right."

Draco waited for something more, and rolled his eyes when Lucius didn't offer any more information. "And what do you need it for?"

Lucius smiled politely, with a streak of mischief behind his eyes. "Things."

Draco sighed. "Forget it." He should have known that you couldn't ask Lucius Malfoy a question and get a strait answer. He'd lived with the man for eighteen years, and had yet to remember this annoying little fact.

Lucius looked on curiously as Draco searched through the ancient spell books and trinkets. Was it finally the time? Had Draco finally decided his fate? "Son?"

"Hmm?" Draco acknowledged, uninterested and distracted by a kaleidoscope-looking object on the shelf.

"This is the first time you've been down here in months," he observed, nonchalantly.

Draco nodded, still taking no interest in the conversation. His mind was elsewhere - far away from the confines of this room. And as far as he was concerned, nothing in here held any value compared to the topic of his daydreams.

"Does this mean that you're ready?" He asked, trying not to sound too hopeful, but he was just too excited about the prospect of being both the mentor and father to the next dark lord.

Draco sighed in response, and didn't bother to turn around to see the grin spread across his father's face.

"My son," Lucius disregarded the cauldron's fizzing concoction and approached Draco, "you won't regret this decision."

Draco snorted. "What if I already do?"

Lucius pursed his lips. "Then you'll learn to like it."

"Like it? Like killing people for the rest of my life?" Draco was appalled at the idea that his father thought he could _like_ this lifestyle.

"Draco, you're very young. I know it must be stressful for you – not to understand. But one day you will. One day you will see that this is the right thing – the noble thing. You'll see we're only doing this for the greater good."

"Greater good? Never mind the fact that we're breaking every wizarding law there is."

"Sometimes, breaking the law is necessary."

"And this is one of those times?"

"Yes. It is. Until the threat is taken out – it's the right time."

Draco finally understood. This wasn't just about being 'bad' for the hell of it. There was a purpose, a motive, a reason for all of this nonsense. Harry Potter. Draco thought that had been resolved months ago. If Voldemort couldn't take Potter out, then surely nobody could, right? He sighed, feeling as if he was making the biggest mistake of his life. But what other choice did he have? Lucius Malfoy always got what he wanted. One way or another, Draco would become the new dark lord. If not today, then tomorrow. He never stood a chance against Lucius. Draco knew that he had no choice in the matter of becoming a monster. He had two choices, though, of how he would become that monster. The easy way – giving in to the request, though it was the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do; or the hard way – letting time pass by miserably, and missing Hermione every second of every day until Lucius finally dragged him into the plan anyway.

Draco wanted to think of Hermione. But it hurt too much. He hoped that she would reconsider, but knew deep down that once her mind was made up – that was it. And this was it. Draco would never have her again. He would never touch her skin, never smell her hair, never kiss her lips, nibble on her ear, make her sweat, scream, squirm beneath him ever again. He knew what he had to do. He had to get a grip on himself before he let this consume him all together. He had to get over Hermione. And what better way to get over something you love, than getting into something you hate? At least then his focus would be elsewhere.

"Fine, I'll do it." Draco hung his head in shame, not being able to believe he'd stooped this low again. After the last time, he swore he'd never be a Death Eater again. He swore he'd turn his life around. And he had. But now, everything had changed again, and he was beginning to think he wasn't cut out for anything other than this life of hatred and shame.

"Wonderful." Lucius's grin was unable to be ignored. He was more thrilled than Draco had ever seen, and it made Draco even more fearful. Usually, the happier his father was, the more miserable he was going to be. "We'll start tomorrow."

"No," Draco was quick to refuse. "I'll do this, Dad, but I'm going to need a little time. You know, to get back in shape and tie up some loose ends at the office."

"You're quitting the firm?"

"It sounds like this is going to be a full time job. I don't think I have much of a choice." He frowned. He'd like the distraction of work so that he could get away from magic every once and a while, but he knew it was too risky to put himself out there like that. If people ever found out – everything would be ruined and he'd be sent strait to Azkaban.

Lucius nodded in agreement, obviously happy with his son's commitment. "Of course. Let me know when, then. I'll continue to build up a stock down here." He smirked, as he looked towards the cabinet holding nearly a hundred bottles of recently made potions. He'd been preparing for this for a while. He wanted to be ready this time around.

Draco nodded solemnly, and turned to leave the room, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He needed to get out of this basement. It was driving him crazy; there were too may familiar fumes that brought him back to the days of last spring, and he couldn't handle all that emotion just yet.

"Oh, Draco?" Apparently Lucius felt the need to say something more to Draco, sensing his shame.

He turned to his father, just wishing he would shut up and let him leave already.

"If you must break the law, do it to seize power. In all other cases, observe it."

Draco smirked. So Lucius _had_ read _Julius Caesar_. Draco was sure he was the only one in the house who had ever touched that book. "Caesar, eh?"

Lucius nodded, knowingly. "You're much like Caesar, you know. You have the potential to be great, Draco. I see it. You're going to make a great Lord, as Caesar made a great King."

"I'm not so sure I want to be Caesar, Dad." He let out a short laugh. Perhaps Lucius hadn't read as much of the play as he let on.

"I can't see why not. You'll be like Caesar – the leader. And I'll be like…Brutus, was it? His right-hand man. We'll make a great team."

Draco couldn't do anything but stare at his father, tongue in cheek, wondering if Lucius knew how stupid he sounded. He had to fight against himself not to laugh. "Dad, you realize Caesar died."

Lucius's positive expression faltered a little. No, as a matter of fact, he didn't know that. Why had he never read that book? All he did was use the quote, how was he supposed to know what happened in the play? "Yes," he was going to try his best to sound like he knew what he was talking about, "well – out of honor, as it were, for his people." He smirked, knowingly. Surely the old man had to have died in honor, right?

Draco snorted. "No, Dad, he didn't die for his people. He was murdered…by Brutus." He shot a glare at his father as he trotted back up the basement steps. He found it ironic that Lucius was comparing them to Caesar and Brutus, because sadly, that's how Draco felt this could all go down – with his father stabbing him in the back. "Oh, and if you're going to quote famous plays from now on, try harder to know what you're talking about – or at least do it in the presence of somebody who doesn't know better."

And for the first time in his life, Lucius let his son have the last word.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 14, 2004**

As she was about to give up the search and turn back, Hermione saw the owl exiting Borgin & Bourkes. She watched it with curiosity, as it flew further into the alley and across the dirt path. Hermione stepped wide to avoid a puddle, and caught sight of the owl turning into an unfamiliar building. She looked around nervously, and caught the eyes of still curious wizards. She swallowed and approached the door. She had to squint and tilt her head to the side to make out the elegant script on the dark tinted window- _The Silver Snake_. The corner of her mouth twitched into a half-smile; the name reminded her of Draco. As soon as she realized her joy, she realized her sadness. She took a deep breath to relieve the pain, and pushed her way through the door. The inside of the bar was decorated elaborately in green. _Figures the owner to be a Slytherin,_ she thought.

She glanced around quickly for the owl, which was nowhere in sight. With a sigh, she finally observed her surroundings. She was in a pub, she realized, as the luck brightened her mood. Ignoring the stares and catcalls, she confidently made her way to the bar and hopped into one of the high, green leather stools. "Gin and tonic, please." She sat in the center stool, without even looking at the bartender until she heard his chuckle.

The man's large belly jiggled when her laughed, looking around to recruit the others to his mocking laughing fit. "Hey, fellas, this lady wants a mixed drink," he called loudly throughout the nearly empty bar.

Hermione scowled at the sound of the loud, menacing laughter behind her. "Is that a problem?"

The man slowed his laugh at the sharpness of her tone; somewhat impressed that such venom could come out of such a sweet-looking girl. "Normally, it wouldn't be, but this ain't your normal bar, sweetheart. Look around you - you ain't in Kansas anymore."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Only an American would make that lame a reference. She'd known there was something…off, about his accent; he was just faking it. "I'm perfectly aware of where I am, thank you. I'm in a bar. Bars have alcohol. Alcohol makes mixed drinks. So what's the problem?"

"Look, lady, my bartender just quit, alright? All we'll be serving for a while is simple firewhiskey."

"If you're not a bartender then who are you?"

"I'm John - the owner," he bit his words, almost daring her to push him further.

She wasn't afraid of his tone. She'd lost the love of her life, she'd lost her family, her home, her friends, herself – she'd finally run out of things to be afraid of. "Well how hard is it to throw a few things together in a glass?"

"You think you're so smart? Why don't you make your own drink?" He smirked, calling her bluff, and moved aside for her to work.

Hermione assessed his expression for a moment. She couldn't be sure, but he looked like he was serious. After seeing the curious faces of the men and few women around her, she stood from her seat. Everyone began to chuckle again, thinking she had learned her lesson and would leave. Hermione gave an uncharacteristically smug smile as she put one foot in the stool, the next on the bar, and jumped over to the other side. Clearly these people were unaware that Hermione Granger hadn't bothered to learn a lesson since she was sixteen years old.

Hermione lightly pushed John out of the way and gathered the supplies she needed to make her drink. She had no bartending skills, but she'd ordered enough drinks to have an idea of where most bars kept their ingredients. She smirked as everyone watched on with interest. She didn't know _exactly_ what she was doing, but the end product looked much like it should. She raised her glass in the direction of the owner before taking a long, refreshing drink.

Everyone in the bar cheered when she nodded her head in satisfaction. John looked her over. "You got a job, smarty-pants?"

She narrowed her eyes, but answered honestly. "No."

"You want one?"

"As what?" She felt the need to ask, as his eyes lingered a bit too long on her figure.

He rolled his eyes. "A bartender, obviously."

"I don't have any experience." She was desperate for a job, but she wasn't willing to lie about her ability to get one.

"You'll learn."

"I don't have anyplace to live."

"I have an apartment available upstairs."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do _you_ live there?" She thought she ought to make sure.

He chuckled. "No. It's empty."

Hermione thought it over for a second. There was something telling her not to do this, that it could be a mistake. But there was another part - a larger part, conveniently - that was telling her to go for it. She sighed. "What the hell? I've got nothing to lose."

John grinned, happy that he filled the position, but also happy that such a pretty girl filled the position. This definitely had possibilities. "Good. Welcome to The Silver Snake…" he prompted for her name.

"Hermione Granger."

He smiled, eyeing her body one last time. "Say, Granger…"

Hermione cringed at the use of her last name. She often wondered why people - especially Slytherin-esque people - were so fascinated by using her last name.

"…how much booze do you think you'd need in your system before you'd do a Coyote Ugly dance for us?" He smirked.

She had to laugh at his next reference. She leaned a little closer so that the customers wouldn't hear. "You know, if you're going to fake a British accent, the least you could do is drop the American references."

He looked taken aback by her discovery of his false custom.

She smiled knowingly in return.

"Well," he chuckled, ignoring her comment, "how much?"

She smirked. "I don't think there's enough in this bar."

He returned the look. "We'll see. You'd be surprised how much this bar can hold."

"You'd be surprised how much I can hold."

"Mmm-hmm." He agreed smugly as he tossed her the hand towel that was draped across his shoulder.

She stared at it blankly and soon realized what she was supposed to do with it. She tossed it across her own shoulder in the same manner, and smiled warily as she put her curly hair into a sloppy bun.

"Time for a little practice." John then handed her a book of drink recipes, finally satisfied with her decision to work. "We already know you can make a gin and tonic. Let's try a…flaming Dr. Pepper."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, thinking he may be joking. She had never heard of that drink before, but he looked serious enough. She shrugged her shoulders and opened the book, feeling a sense of nostalgia as she did so. She hadn't cracked a book since she was on the run with Harry and Ron…

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I remember the pain I felt when I allowed myself to consciously think of Ron. Yeah, it had only been days since I'd poured my heart out in a letter I wrote to his memory; but after that disaster, I vowed to never think of Ron again, unless it was in my hidden subconscious - that, of course, I couldn't control. As long as the thought remained hidden, maybe it wouldn't hurt so badly. After all, thanks to my recent spasm of sanity, I didn't even have Draco as a distraction anymore._

_Though, we both knew that Draco was far more than a distraction to me. And by 'both,' I mean my good side and my broken side. That may not be the best thing to admit in an essay meant to judge my emotional stability…but I'll leave it. I'm not here to hide the fact that I'm a nutcase. You've all seen me at my worst, right?_

_Wrong._

_Because the thing is, none of you knew me at my worst. You never heard of me until I came to this muggle clinic. If a normal person were to be in my exact position right now, they would probably say it was the worst time in their lives. But I know better than that. Alcohol has damn near ruined my life, but it had help. Lots of help. Me._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**April 27, 2005**

"Rum and Coke."

Hermione heard the voice. She felt the chill. She felt his presence. But she was afraid to turn around.

"Miss?"

Hermione stood with her back to the bar, dreading turning around. But she did it. With a flip of her long, curly hair and a fake smile, she looked into the voice's green eyes.

To her surprise, Harry smiled, not looking the least bit surprised to see her. "I heard you were here."

She couldn't help but let her jaw drop. "You knew it was me?"

He raised a thick, black eyebrow. "Do you remember in our third year when we used the time turner at Hagrid's? And you asked what your hair looked like from the back?"

She grinned. "Still looks the same, huh?"

"Almost. It's a little longer. And darker. How long has it been since you've seen sunlight, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? I mostly live for the nightlife these days."

"I see."

They stood, staring at each other for a while, and reacquainting themselves with each other's face.

"So, how about that drink?"

Hermione smirked. "Of course." She went to work on Harry's order, and promptly sat it on the bar in front of him.

Harry took a drink, and nodded approvingly. "The rumors at work are true. You are a good bartender. And after only a couple of months."

"I'm a fast learner."

"That you are."

She smiled. "So, what brings you here, Harry?" She couldn't exactly say she was happy to see him there, but she did want to know why. "Ginny go off her rocker and kick you out, too?"

Harry put his glass down, ignoring her underlying insult. "Actually, no. Ginny and I are engaged."

Hermione nearly choked on the sip of water she was taking. She accidentally spilled a spot on the black, low-cut top she was wearing, making Harry laugh.

"Engaged?"

"Engaged."

"But you're only eighteen years old."

"I know. But I love her. And I want to spend forever with her."

Hermione couldn't believe her body when she smiled. She was genuinely happy. "Well-congratulations!" She leaned across the bar to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you."

"Is-" she hesitated. "Is Ginny here?"

Harry looked at Hermione like she was crazy.

"Right." She had her answer. "I didn't think so." She bit her lip while she rearranged the bottles behind the bar. "Does she still hate me?" She didn't know why she cared. She'd gotten over Ginny Weasley a long time ago. She'd learned to live without her friends, and she thought she was doing just fine.

Harry sighed. "She's not happy, but I think she's mostly over it."

Hermione nodded and looked to the ground. She suddenly felt shameful. She spent another moment unnecessarily moving bottles and glasses around, putting them in perfect formations. Maybe she was developing OCD?

"You should come home."

The sudden, asinine request caused Hermione to drop a glass. The shattering caused John's eyes to shoot up from his conversation in the corner to Hermione, instantly forming a disapproving glare. She smiled innocently and began to clean up the shards of glass. She looked back at Harry to see if he was joking. But he wasn't laughing - not even at her clumsiness. "I'm sorry?"

"I said you should come home."

She snorted. Did he really expect her to agree to that?

"Please, Hermione. We miss you."

"Ginny doesn't miss me."

"But the rest of us do."

"Does she even know about this?"

Harry looked, guiltily, into his emptying glass. "No."

Hermione laughed, at a loss for anything else to do. "This is unbelievable."

"What?"

"Harry, I can't come back. You know that."

"But I don't, Hermione. I don't see why it's a problem. We want you there."

"That's not enough, Harry. This is my life now."

Harry looked around the bar, skeptically. "_This_ is your life? Hermione, how did you even get here? And how do you expect to stay?"

"Look, I need this, okay? I need to learn to stand on my own two feet, Harry. I need a little independence. Plus, as crazy as it sounds - I actually love this place."

"But do you even have any friends here?"

"No, I don't. But I don't need any."

Harry looked a little stung. "What do you mean you don't need any?"

Hermione regretted the way her words had sounded. It obviously hurt Harry's feelings. "I'm sorry, Harry. Friends are something I haven't had in a long time. And I miss that. And I miss you. But I can't come home. I've changed. And that's not what I am anymore. I'm not a friend. I'm just a girl in a bar, trying to make it through the night."

Harry stuck his chin out, defiantly. "I'm not giving up on you, Hermione."

"You don't have to. I've given up for you."

"But-"

"Look, Harry. God knows I owe you my life, and I love you for this - but eventually, you've got to stop trying to save me."

Harry sighed, admitting defeat. She was right. He needed to let her live her own life. As much as it killed him, the Hermione he once knew didn't exist anymore. And this Hermione had no intention of letting the old one back into her life. So as much as it killed him, as much as he hated it - Harry made the decision to let her go. "Alright." He nodded his head. "Alright, you win. I'll stop trying to save you, if that's what you really want."

Hermione smiled ruefully. "That's what I want."

"Okay." He downed the rest of his drink and threw a couple galleons on the counter. He rested his hand on Hermione's, and smiled at her. "If you change your mind - you just say the word. We'll always be here. _I_ will always be here."

She covered Harry's hand with her free one. "Always," she agreed.

Harry gave her one last smile before turning and leaving the bar. Hermione watched the door swing shut, feeling sad, because she may have just watched her last chance at a good life walk away from her. With a regretful sigh, she grasped the neck of a beer bottle and took a swig when John wasn't looking.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_Perhaps sending twenty-four hours a day at the Silver Snake was not the best thing for me. It's probably a stupid thing to do while trying to change one's life - spend all day and night in a bar. But I was happy there, though I wasn't sure how. I'd been opposed to all forms of dark magic since I first read _Hogwarts, a History_, almost seven years ago. But here I was, in Knockturn Alley, where the very essence of dark magic is so strong it all but knocks you off your feet. There was no escaping it. It lingered in the air. I just tried to ignore it, to focus on my bartending and – dancing - on the bar. I'd still be embarrassed by it…if I had any right to be ashamed anymore._

_When Harry visited, independence, self-preservation, and love of my job were the reasons I gave him for staying. But the real reason, silly as it is, was Draco. I followed his owl into that alley four months earlier, and since then had seen it twice-always flying around town from shop to shop. Though it never entered the Silver Snake, I always hoped that it would._

_I saw Lucius Malfoy in the bar one day - on business, it seemed. It was bad enough that -whatever Draco was doing - he wasn't sending his owl there, but Lucius had to come in person. Did that mean that he knew I was there? And that he'd told Lucius? And that he was avoiding me? Not that I didn't deserve it. In fact, I deserved much worse._

_I remember Lucius wandering around, as if looking for something. Or someone. Before he saw me there, I announced to John that I was taking a break. He was clearly upset that I'd taken that moment to leave; he had obviously wanted to show me off to Lucius, whom was once his most valuable customer. Luckily, Lucius didn't stay long enough for John to fetch me from the loo. I might have died if I was subjected to dancing on a bar counter and pouring vodka down that man's throat. The only way I would have done that is if I spiked the bottle with arsenic. But something told me that wouldn't go over too well. And, as much as he hated his father (though since he was clearly up to something bad, for which the mysterious owls served as evidence, I suspected that feeling had changed), Draco may not forgive me if I poisoned his father._

_I wondered, though, if Draco would ever forgive me anyway. I'd hurt him - I think. I couldn't be sure he felt the same way about me. Yes, he opened up to me and told me private, personal things (though I believe he thought I hadn't remembered); but was all that really enough reason to believe that he loved me? _

_Part of me wanted to say that yes, it was. The good part? The bad part? I didn't know. And I didn't know for a long time. I know now, of course. But I'm not quite ready to disclose that information just yet._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**June 1, 2005**

"Granger!"

Hermione groaned at hearing her boss's screeching voice from the other end of the bar. "What?"

"Get over here." He was busy looking over a clipboard of papers.

"In a minute." She rolled her eyes as she finished up a drink for a customer. She wiped her hands on the towel that was hanging from her apron and slowly approached the large, hairy man with the clipboard and the miss-matched clothes. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk about this." He held up a sheet of paper logging the bar's finances.

"Okay." Hermione hopped up on the bar to sit down, picking up the paper to see what it was.

"Any explanations?"

"I don't know what's going on, so no. No explanations."

"How much money did you make last month, Granger?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't know. Fifty galleons?"

"Sixty-two."

"Oh."

"And how much of it did you spend in this bar?"

"About…Thirty?"

"Six."

"Then I did good last month."

"No, Granger, you didn't. You drank more than six galleons worth last night alone."

"Oh come on, John, it's a bar. I'm a bartender. I have to sample the new concoctions."

"No you don't. That's my job."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's also my job to make sure that the employees aren't abusing their privileges here."

"Look, John, we've been through this before. I'll pay it all back."

"Yes, Hermione, we've been through this before. Which is why it's so serious. You don't seem to get it."

"I get that I bring in more money than any of your other bartenders." She jumped off the bar and put her hand on her hip.

"Yeah, the customers like your nightly Coyote Ugly routine. You're good at shaking your ass, Granger; I'll give you that. But I'm not making money of you anymore. You're drinking more than you sell."

"I'm not drinking that much." She looked slightly ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Granger, but I'm going to have to let you go." John looked a little sad about his decision, but he knew it was for the best.

Hermione looked up, stunned. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't have a choice."

"But…y-you can't do that! What am I supposed to do now?"

"If I were you, I'd start with getting sober."

"I am not a drunk." She spoke firmly and calmly, though she was ready to explode with anger.

"Whatever you say. Believe whatever you want, do whatever you want. But that's just what I'd do." He stacked up his papers and left her alone at the bar. A few bystanders snickered, but most everyone else in the bar was either too far away to hear the encounter or far too drunk to care.

Hermione was about to cry. She watched John walk away. There went her last chance. She fumbled with the string on her apron, finally untangling it and throwing her apron angrily on the bar. She grabbed a nearly full bottle of vodka and walked out.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_There it is_. Draco smiled to himself when the bright light coming from the windows of _The Silver Snake_ illuminated the path ahead of him. There was a noise coming from inside, louder than he ever remembered as a young teenager. It sounded like business had picked up in the last several years. Maybe it had to do with that new bartender – the one who sounded to strangely resemble Hermione Granger. He just couldn't believe that it was really her. Until he saw her with his own eyes, he would just pretend it was someone who looked like her. No reason to get his hopes up.

Draco stopped to check his reflection in one of the dark shop windows that had closed for the night. Just in case, by some stroke of luck, she was in there. He straitened his white collar, draped his red tie sexily around his neck, and ruffled his slightly longer, wind-blown hair. He rubbed his eyes to liven them up a little, hoping he didn't appear very tired, and slapped his cheeks a few times to help the cause. He took a minute to note the hair growth on his face. He would have to take care of that later.

He sighed sadly, thinking that he was doing all this in vain; and that he was just setting himself up for disappointment. Even if she was here a few months ago, that doesn't guarantee she would be here now. As he was about to venture forward to the noisy bar, he heard a sob coming from the darkness. The sound was barely audible, but lucky for  
Draco, he had impeccable hearing. He almost ignored it, as he may possibly have a beautiful reunion with Hermione the second he walked in those doors, but guilt for his many years of ignoring sobs in the dark got the best of him, and he slowly peeked around the corner of a building.

There, sitting on the closed lid of a dumpster, with a half-empty bottle in her hand, was a woman. The dark made it hard to tell, but Draco could see the light of a nearby neon sign reflecting the top of her curly hair and peeking through the space between her bent leg and the curve of her breast. It was definitely a woman – and a beautiful one at that. He didn't even have to see her face to know she was gorgeous. The longer he stared at her dark profile, the more he began to feel his heart race, because he began to think that Fate may have finally picked him to win the lottery. This girl looked awfully familiar, even in the shadows of Knockturn Alley.

Hermione had been crying. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she had definitely been crying. Though the half a bottle of vodka was helping her to feel less and less pain by the sip.

Ah, who are we kidding? Hermione Granger doesn't _sip_ anything anymore.

She's experienced enough to drink even the hardest liquor like it was water. Her current favorite drink was exactly what was in her hand – straight vodka. No need to mix it in a martini – not for her. Last month's drink had been tequila shots. She spent almost every night of the month of May with a different man, licking the salt from her wrist, downing a shot, and sucking on a lime. Though it was the one concoction that caused her to actually feel some of the nasty effects that alcohol was supposed to give you, she liked it. She would gladly trade the countless of hours of hallucinations, feeling close to death, and lying behind the bar passed out until noon the next day - just for the fun of tequila. It was definitely the most entertaining drink she'd ever discovered.

The men were pretty entertaining, too. They would always begin the first shot with the intention of taking her to bed with them. But as with all the ones the nights before, she had been able to outlast them. Hermione thought it was just her luck to always get a bunch of lightweights_._ After a few too many shots they had couldn't even remember their names, let alone that they were trying to shag her. Wasn't it funny how she could always hold her alcohol longer than the big, bad wizards that waltzed into that bar night after night?

Not funny, really. More like sad. Hermione thought it was sad how she, at age eighteen, could drink more than men who had been drinking for ten-plus years. She really needed to get control of her life. Alcohol was about to ruin her life – she could feel it. So far she could be blamed for most of the catastrophes she'd been through. But not much longer. She feared the day was coming that she would fall into another alcohol-induced tragedy. And this time, she wouldn't come out of it. Because she had no one to pull her out of it. John had been her sort of guardian angel recently. And before that it was Draco.

_Way to go, Hermione._ Thinking Draco's name cut even deeper at her bleeding heart. She wished he were here. Or that she was there. Or anywhere, really, as long as they were together. Hermione thought of where she was a year ago today – preparing for the timeless battle at Hogwarts. That had marked the beginning of her year of stupid mistakes. And letting Draco go may have been the stupidest of them all. Not just because she needed him – though she would admit that she did – but because he needed her, too. And it felt good to be needed. Like she wasn't just a waste of space, taking up oxygen on this planet. She needed to feel needed. She needed a purpose. She needed a reason to keep living. She needed help. She had help once, but she spoiled that. And now she had nobody. She felt like nobody cared. She felt like she made them that way. She felt like her life was over.

And when she felt like her life was over, it meant she'd had just the wrong amount of alcohol. Not enough to make her forget how much her life sucked and how quickly it had turned to shit. Too much to quit.

So she looked at her arm, extended over top of her bent left knee, and the hand that loosely held the bottle of vodka. She had five fingers that were keeping that bottle from falling to the ground and shattering on the bricks beneath the dumpster on which she was perched. One little movement would send the bottle and it's contents to their destruction, and would maybe lead Hermione away from her own. It was the decision she _should_ make – to drop the bottle and go sleep off the buzz. But instead, she bent her elbow and brought the bottle close to her lips. She tasted the colorless liquid briefly before a movement to her right and a voice stopped her.

"Don't." The voice said.

It froze her blood. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. She could barely move, but she forced herself. She thought she should be afraid of a random stranger, obviously of the male gender, approaching her in a dark alley. But she couldn't even be afraid, because she _knew_ this voice. It was the voice she'd been waiting to hear for six long months. The voice that she prayed would order a drink every single day. The voice that belonged to him.

She almost looked, but was sidetracked by the bottle at her lips once again. She didn't take a drink, just as the voice had instructed, but instead she looked at the liquid accusingly - wondering if it were the reason for her suddenly hearing this sweet voice – at the moment she needed it the most.

With a brave exhale of air, she turned her head to the side, and gasped that breath right back again. Because there he was. Right there. Ten feet away from her. There was no mistaking his features, shining in the neon light. No one else had that nose. That jaw line. Those lips. That bright blond hair. Nobody.

Draco cautiously walked closer to her dumpster, not sure yet that it was really her. But as he neared her body, the light caught her following gaze, and reflected brilliantly off her wet eyes and flushed face. The look that she was giving him must have mirrored that of his own. Surprise, fear, relief…and many more that had gotten lost in the moment. "Hermione?" He surprised himself when he choked on her name. He hadn't said it aloud in half a year (when speaking with Lucius, she was never referred to by her first name), and he'd forgotten how wonderful the words felt on his lips.

Hermione had forgotten how she loved hearing him say her name. She wanted to say his back, but the only words her inebriated mind could process at the moment were, "Oh my God."

Draco swallowed hard. It wasn't the response he was hoping for, but he would take anything right now, just to hear her speak. "How-" he cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

She gaped at him, still not believing that the vodka hadn't caused her to hallucinate like the tequila had. During that phase, she had seen Draco many times – in the bar, in the bathroom, in her bed...this was only the first day of her vodka addiction. Perhaps she had underestimated its power on her mental stability. She shook her head, a bit superfluously, just to make sure.

"Easy does it."

Hermione stopped shaking her head and realized that she was cradled in Draco's arms. How had that happened? She had just been sitting on the dumpster. Hadn't she? She looked around for her bottle of vodka. It was smashed on the ground. _Bad call with the head shaking,_ she thought. But at least it confirmed her uncertainty – Draco was really here. He wasn't a hallucination after all. "W-what are you doing here?" She stammered.

He grinned, glad to hear her voice again, even if she was completely smashed. "I was heading for a drink. Bad day. You?"

"Bad year."

He brushed the hair out of her face solemnly. Merlin, she was a mess. But she was his mess, and he was so glad for that.

"Draco?"

His heart raced at the sound of his name. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Can you put me down? I think I'm going to throw up."

He hated to let her go, but thought he probably should comply. She looked pretty serious. Sure enough, she darted around the other side of the dumpster and began to heave. Draco winced at the sound, and politely looked away. Now that was different, he thought. She must really be in bad shape. He'd seen the girl drink a lot before, but never had he seen her get sick from it. He quickly decided he needed to get her away from this place. That bartending wasn't doing her any good.

"Sorry."

Draco spun around to see Hermione looking shameful, and popping a stick of chewing gum into her mouth. She put the package back into her tight blue jeans and arched her back to stretch. When she did so, the hem of her black button-up shirt rose. Draco noted that she had become significantly thinner over the last few months. Her stomach was flatter, there were no longer little love handles above the waist of her jeans. Her legs were slim in the fitted pants, and traveling back up her body, Draco may go so far as to say he could begin to see the outline of her ribs. _Merlin, she must be living off alcohol alone._ When she released her stretch and brought her arms back to her side, Draco noticed that she had accidentally caused another button to come undone on her top. Her cleavage was beginning to show, and he could barely see the outline of a red bra in the darkness.

Not that Hermione cared, or even realized, that she had popped a button. She was too far-gone to notice such things. All she was paying attention to was Draco. She was trying desperately to focus on him, and not the painkiller that was swimming through her blood stream. She wanted to see him, not the blurry outline that she was beginning to see. She shook her head briefly, but stopped when she remembered what happened the last time she did that. Instead she settled for repeatedly blinking her eyes, trying to clear her vision. It helped.

She noticed how much longer Draco's platinum blond hair was. It was almost down to his chin, and he hadn't bothered to slick it back anymore. It lay on his head, a shaggy mess. Partnered with the un-tucked white shirt (top buttons undone), the untied necktie, and the sexy-as-hell stubble on his jaw and chin; he looked pretty scruffy – not something she was used to seeing from Draco Malfoy. Maybe it was her drunken state, but she kind of liked it. She thought it finally made him look that the bad boy he was supposed to be.

Draco broke the silence when Hermione smiled at him. "You look good, Hermione. Beautiful as ever." Draco knew he shouldn't be doing this. He was here to tell her that she was in danger. That was all. He couldn't let himself get carried away with this. After all, he didn't love her anymore, right? He only cared for her. Dark Lord Training had been successful in one aspect, at least. It had helped him get over her.

She smiled wider, blushing for the first time in a while. She was used to the men in the bar complementing her looks, but when Draco said it, she knew he meant it. And hearing him tell her she was beautiful brought on the same feelings as it did when he first told her almost a year ago. "So do you."

He returned the grin. "So what have you been up to?"

"Dancing."

He cocked an eyebrow. _What in the world? Dancing?_ It wasn't quite the response he expected.

She shrugged. "Turns out I'm not half-bad at it."

"You're not half-bad at anything." _Dammit, Draco. Stop this right now!_ He yelled at himself to stop giving her compliments and making small talk, and to just give her the warning and disappear. He couldn't afford her as a distraction right now.

She blushed again. She had missed this – being complemented by someone who meant each and every word. "So, what have you been doing all this time?" She hoped he would give an explanation as to why his owl was always flying around town

He tensed a bit, but being the experienced liar that he was, quickly recovered. "Just working. Things at the office are – hectic, to say the least. My father, you know." _Why are you lying to her, Draco? Just tell her and get out of there._

She nodded her head. Yes, his father would make things at work more complicated than they needed to be. "But other than that – you're doing alright?"

He bit his lip. This was just too much for him. Seeing her, being in such close proximity to her – it brought back everything he felt for her. It brought back all the emotions and urges he'd fought so hard to suppress. The last six months had been a waste of time. Because in the last six seconds, all he had accomplished had just gone down the drain. He wondered what to say to her. He wondered if he should tell her that he's been fighting the dreams of this reunion for the past six months. That, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stand being away from her for a second longer, and that he wanted nothing more right now than to make love to her. He'd even throw her against the dumpster and do it right there if the chance presented itself. "Good enough."

"Good."

They were silent for a moment, both knowing what they wanted to say – neither knowing quite how to say it.

Hermione smiled. She couldn't believe her luck. Of course it was easily recognizable. She'd always been a fairly lucky person. But today topped all. She was beginning to think that getting fired was one of the best things to ever happen to her. Because it led up to this moment.

"So, I think we should talk about this new look of yours." She smiled.

Draco smirked. "What do you think of it?"

"Its – different. But I like it."

"It's completely by accident, I have to admit."

"Maybe you should have more accidents. It suits you."

"It's not too scruffy for me?"

"No, it makes you look kind of – dangerous." She winked.

He laughed. "I've always been dangerous."

"Yeah, but now you look the part." She approached him, seductive. Something she'd finally mastered. All the feelings she'd tried so hard to repress for the last six months were creeping back to her now. Paired with the booze, she was unable to control herself any longer.

Draco wanted to let her. He did. But when her lips pressed against his, it reminded him why he was here – that she was the most important thing in the world, and she was the first to be destroyed when the new Lord came to power.

He pushed her off of him, much to both of their surprise. She didn't know the motive behind his resistance, and Draco was surprised at his own will power, and ability to resist her sweet, (and by means of the vodka – bitter) kiss. Instantly, he put up his shield. There were two people to ever break through that barrier, and he had been unable to protect the first. He couldn't let his emotions get in the way of protecting this one. His eyes turned cold, and muscles turned rigid, and he forced himself to look anywhere and everywhere but into her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, not hiding the pain in her voice as it broke.

"I can't – " Draco cursed himself for having to choke on his words. " I can't do this, Granger." Again, he cursed himself. But this time it was for looking in her eyes – and for seeing the pain he inflicted by using her last name.

Hermione tried to understand his sudden mood swing. He had seemed so receptive of her just moments ago. He had been flirting. He had touched her. And now, he stood far away. His voice was rough, and his stare was hard. He wasn't anything like she'd wanted him to be. But he was now exactly like she'd expected. For weeks (even months) after she ended their relationship, she imagined what he would be like if and when she ever saw him again. She imagined him to be cold, and to be distant. And…angry. She couldn't say she was shocked by his response. The abruptness of it, maybe; but she would agree that she probably deserved it. – especially after what she'd last said to him. "Did – " She, like Draco, had to stop to swallow. "Did you get my letter?"

He flashed his angry eyes to hers. She was smart, indeed. He figured she would jump to this conclusion. He was angry because he wanted her, and he knew he couldn't have her. But he guessed there was some truth to why _she _thought he was angry. _She_ probably thought it was because of the letter. And to be honest with himself, part of it may have been. "I didn't come looking for you, did I?"

"I don't know. You could have and just not found me."

"Trust me, Granger, if I were looking for you – I'd find you."

"Like tonight?" She assessed his expression. It was blank, and he was avoiding her gaze. "Did you come looking for me tonight?"

He inhaled deeply and exhaled quickly. "Yes, I did. My father saw you in _The Silver Snake_ a while back – bartending?" He cocked his eyebrow, at which she blushed and smiled. He snorted, getting his answer. "And to think I thought he was lying about it. I thought he just said he saw you to get a reaction out of me."

Hermione furrowed her brow, confused.

"He knew that I was sneaking around with someone. He didn't know it was you."

"I know. We kept it a secret. But then why would he mention me to you? Why would he think you'd care?"

"I slipped up. We were – " Draco thought of something to tell her. He couldn't very well tell her the truth – that he was practicing dark magic. He figured she wouldn't be very open to that. "We were just cleaning out our basement, and came across a lot of old stuff. Spell books and whatnot."

"Dark spell books?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes. Anyway, Dad started running his mouth and I said something in defense of good wizards, and he started to get suspicious."

"But I thought he was good now, too." Hermione accused.

Draco laughed. "Yeah, so does he. But he still hates white magic. And he thinks that just because he isn't physically trying to kill people," Draco lied, "it makes him better. I don't know. He's crazy."

"I'm aware."

Her sincere agreement angered Draco further. But this time, it was actually toward her. She may be right about his father – that he was a lunatic. But it didn't make it okay for her to say so. "Look, Granger, I know that I've said a lot of bad stuff in the past, but – "

"Don't tell me you're going to defend him now." Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Six months ago, he'd wanted nothing more than to get away from Lucius Malfoy. Now he was going to defend him?

"He's my father."

"I know he's your father, but that doesn't make him good! Merlin, Draco, have you forgotten how miserable he made you?"

"No, misery is not something I forget easily." He glared at her knowingly, intending the words to sting.

Even in an inebriated state, she picked up on the implication. "Okay, let's backtrack a little bit. You said you got my letter. Maybe we should talk about what was in it."

"No."

Hermione was taken aback. She suspected that he wouldn't be so open to discussion, but his quick and firm response surprised her. "But I just – "

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't go there. I didn't come here to talk about that."

Hermione was confused, and being tipsy, let her mind wander away form that topic for now. "Then why did you come?"

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. He couldn't help but let his soften. It was so hard to be angry with her. Even if it was for his own good, as well as hers. "I came to tell you something." He held her hand as he spoke to her, not sure exactly how to tell her she was on the list to be killed soon. But he had to do it – to save her. He figured just spitting it out would be the easiest way. "You're in danger."

That wasn't what she expected. Danger? What else was new? She was at home with danger. And what kind of danger was he talking about? "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "I mean that the Dark Lord is on the rise again – and you'll be killed as soon as he comes to full power."

Whoops. Perhaps that was a bit too much information. He had told her the Dark Lord was back – but he didn't tell her it was him.

"I don't understand." She shook her head, trying to get his words to make sense. "Harry vanquished You-Know-Who. He's gone."

Draco looked at the ground, trying to keep from giving himself away. He could lie pretty well to his father and other Death Eaters, but it was different lying to Hermione. "There's another."

Her eyes widened in both surprise and terror. Another Dark Lord? Did this mean she would have to relive all the hell she went threw a year ago? "What do you mean there's another? Who the hell is it?"

Draco sighed. "I'm not sure." This one wasn't a lie. He really wasn't sure who he was lately. "But whoever it is, is very dangerous, and will want to rid the world of all Muggle-borns. And you'll be an easy target because you've conveniently planted yourself in the middle of Death Eater Central." He rolled his eyes at her rare stupidity. "You should get as far away from here as you can – as fast as you can."

She stared in disbelief for a moment before bursting into laughter. This was all just way too ridiculous to be true. "Another Dark Lord? Please. Nobody is stupid enough to try that again. Not even a dumb Death Eater."

Draco tensed and his lip curled into a snarl. She didn't know it, but she was indirectly calling him stupid, and that didn't make him happy. Though he would rather take the anger inside of him than to tell her his secret just to avoid a few harsh words. "Well it's true. You can choose to believe it, or you cannot. But the ugly truth is that you're going to be killed soon, and I'm risking my life trying to keep that from happening. If anyone on the Dark Lord's side finds out – I'll be killed for sure. So just remember, when we're both lying dead in a gutter here soon – remember that I tried to warn you. And you were too stupid to take it seriously." He finished with a scowl and turned away from her to pick a piece of lint from his jacket in the light. She could be so infuriating at times. He couldn't stand to look at her anymore; for fear that he may do something he would regret.

Everything about the way he spoke to her gave Hermione chills. It reminded her so much of the way he used to be – before the war at Hogwarts. Before he lost Pansy and learned to forgive and love and hope. It reminded her of the Draco Malfoy she once hated, not the on she loved. It made her heart break a little, to know that he was doing this kind thing for her, but that he was also probably on the side that was trying to kill her. He was different, that was for sure, and she couldn't pt her finger on why he was so. "What happened to you?"

He didn't need more than a second to respond. He figured she would catch on to that fact. "I changed, Granger."

"I know you did. And I liked you better."

"No, I mean – I changed back, I guess."

"It's only been six months! How the hell much could you possibly change?"

"As I recall, Granger, you changed in a matter of days."

She looked at him with murder in her eyes. How dare he remind her of how much she had changed. She knew bloody well how different she was now. She wasn't proud of it, but she knew the truth.

Draco faltered for only a second at her expression. She looked like she could kill him, and he knew why. It was pretty low of him to throw that up in her face. But he was Draco Malfoy after all. And she was a Mudblood. This is how it was supposed to be.

Without a word, Hermione stalked out of the alleyway and into the main street. It was dark and deserted, but she sat down against the outside of a building, just needing to get away from Draco. She pulled a silver flask from her pocket and raised it to her lips. It was nearly empty, and Hermione couldn't even remember what was in it tonight, but she was sure it was strong enough to do the trick.

"For God's Sake." Draco snatched the flask from her before more than a drop could reach her thirsty tongue.

"What the hell?"

"Do you never learn?" He closed the cap on the flask and held it up to her. "When are you going to realize that this does nothing for you, Hermione?"

"And here I thought you weren't concerned about my well-being."

"That isn't the point!"

"Then what is the point, Malfoy?" She noticed his angry breath at the sound of his last name. "Oh, what's that," she taunted, "you don't know yet? Daddy hasn't told you?"

Draco angrily threw the flask across the street and heard it _ping_ against a garbage can. "Damn you, Granger! You have no right to speak of my father, Mudblood! Leave him out of it."

Hermione lost it when he called her a Mudblood. She hadn't heard that word in a year – not from him, at least. And it set her off. She fumbled for her wand, finally puling it from a strap on her leg. She pointed it at Draco and slurred the name of a curse. Lucky for Draco, her lack of sobriety yielded her curse to the left, barely missing him.

Draco reached for his wand, but stopped before bringing it halfway from his pocket. He sighed as he looked at the pitiful girl holding a wand to him. He knew how skilled she was, and that if challenged, she would be merciless, but he couldn't bring himself to pull his wand on her.

Instead, he sighed and looked to the ground, ruffling his hair as if in a dilemma. His head was telling him to fight back, but his heart was telling him to let her be. He thought he had his answer, but looked into her eyes once more to confirm it. Her brown eyes were darker that usual, with anger, and they didn't leave his. When Draco relaxed his brow, hers seemed to soften as well, but she didn't break her gaze, nor did she lower her wand.

With a last, defeated sigh, Draco turned his back and began to slowly walk away.

Hermione looked on, stunned. She hadn't expected that. At a loss for anything else to do, and itching for a fight, she caught up and pointed her wand to his back. "Running away, are we? I thought Death Eaters were supposed to be good at dueling."

His body tensed. Not from her wand, but from her words. He slowly turned to see the hurt and angry face of the girl he loved, looking at him like she felt every emotion for him except love. Sad as it was, she didn't look capable of love. Again, he felt pity for her, but refused to engage in the duel. "Put your wand down, Granger."

She smirked, which surprised Draco. When they were together, he noticed she had started to pick up this habit; but never had he seen her do it so perfectly. "Why? I've got nothing left to lose." It sounded to Draco like she choked on the last word. He could tell her tough exterior was breaking down.

With another wave of pity – it was true that she had lost everything that ever mattered to her – Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not dueling you."

"Scared?"

"For you, yes." He turned and walked faster away this time. He needed to get away from there before he had a mental breakdown. All this emotion was getting to be entirely too much for him.

"Come back, coward!" She continued to taunt him, but her words grew less menacing and more flooded by tears every minute. Why was he walking away from her? She didn't understand how he could just leave her there, especially after the things she'd said to him. She was sure that, had it been twelve months ago, he would have killed her without a second thought.

He stopped dead in the street, but didn't turn to look back at her. "Just go home, Granger."

The dam behind Hermione's tears finally broke and they flowed freely. It was strange that after all she'd been through; a tiny little word such as _home_ could bring her such sadness. She sat down in the middle of the street, sobbing as she thought of how she hadn't had a real home in nearly two years. One year she had spent on the run, the past year she had spent in places that never felt homey enough for her. How great it would be to have a home again. Not just a house, but to have someone there that loves you. Hermione cried at the thought that she may never find a home like that again. She would probably either be alone for the rest of her life or drink herself to death.

Draco sighed again. He was getting tired of this reaction. He wanted to yell at her, hex her, hold her – anything other than feeling sorry for her. But as he watched her crying in the middle of the street, he couldn't help it. He wanted to help her. He wanted to make her stop crying, to make it better. But being in the current position he was, it wouldn't be a good idea to go comforting Muggle-borns.

_Muggle-borns?_ Draco furrowed his brow as he thought. He must already be losing his strength to resist her. He didn't see her as a Mudblood anymore, but as a Muggle-born. He had to get out of here as fast as possible before he blew the whole operation, but he couldn't just leave her there. Not when his father was planning to kill her.

As she began to quiet her sobs, Draco held a hand out to lift her from the ground. "Come on, let me help you home."

Hermione shook her head and began to weep again.

"I'm serious. You're in no state to be left alone. Now where are you living?"

"Nowhere."

Draco looked at her in alarm. "What do you mean _nowhere_?" Hermione had been living on the streets? Was she serious?

"I was kicked out. Today. I got fired. And I lived above the bar. So – naturally I don't live there anymore."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

_No, you can't. You just can't! _Draco chastised himself in his head. _Your father would have a cow. Here you are trying to kill her, and you want to bring her into your house? Are you nuts? _

_Maybe,_ he reasoned.

While he battled himself in his head, Hermione was trying to hold back tears. She blamed the vodka, but now she was getting emotional, because the big realization that she didn't have any place to live just hit her like a ton of bricks. And here was the guy she loved, about to watch it all.

Draco noticed her eyes watering – and it nearly broke his heart. The heart that he had worked so hard to keep hidden from the world for half a year. The heart that secretly longed for her every night. The heart that hadn't belonged to him in almost a year. He sighed and approached her back, which she had turned to him to hide her tears. He embraced her from behind, and she willingly leaned her head to the side to touch her temple to his. She sobbed aloud, and Draco fought to keep from doing the same thing.

When he held her, it was like the first time he ever held her. She was vulnerable, and real. It was so similar, but also so very different, because this time, he loved her. And she loved him. They both knew it was wrong and unconventional, and that – much like the rest of their lives – could end in tragedy, but they did it anyway. Because that's what  
Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy did. They broke the rules for each other. Following them had gotten them nowhere thus far, so they both decided it was time to take a risk. They'd already lost almost everything, what was giving in to love going to hurt them?

And with that realization, Draco suddenly didn't care what his father thought. He was the new dark lord, dammit, and he could save and love whomever he wanted. "Hermione?"

Her only response was a sob and a sniffle.

"You'll stay with me."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and PLEASE review! I swear, it makes me feel a thousand times better about my story when I get reviews! Thanks so much!!

-Amanda


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I know it's been waaaay too long, and I'm sorry for that. But getting a couple reviews recently has really made me want to continue this story!! So thanks to you! Here's the next chapter. It's finally getting into the parts that I was most excited about writing, so I hope to have the inspiration to keep up with it. Of course, your reviews help me keep in the spirit. =) So I hope you like the chapter. Please let me know what you think about the direction this is going. I know it's a little different.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**June 2, 2005**

"Father, I need to speak with you."

Lucius was in the middle of a meeting with a former Death Eater, and didn't look too pleased about being disturbed. "I'm busy at the moment, Draco. It will have to wait."

"It can't wait. I must speak with you now. Privately." He threw a glance to the man in the corner, whose face was all but hidden from view behind a mane of gray, wiry hair.

Lucius sighed but dismissed the man, inviting Draco to sit across the desk from him. "What is so bloody important that it couldn't wait an hour? Do you have any idea who that man is?"

"I don't care who he is. He can't possibly be of any help to us."

"He just so happens to be very powerful."

"He's weak."

"He is old. He is not weak."

"He's a liability."

"I assure you, Draco – "

"Enough Father." Draco held a hand up to silence him. "I didn't come here to discuss business."

Lucius looked at the features of his son's face – so similar to his own – and sighed. "What is it?"

Draco, trying to choose the best plan of action, looked at his left hand resting on the arm of the chair. His fingers were tapping nervously on the black velvet. He shifted his gaze to his right hand, doing the same on the opposite arm. "I want to talk to you about Hermione Granger."

Lucius's indifferent expression faltered; he was a bit taken aback. "I thought this wasn't about business."

Anger briefly flashed in Draco's eyes. His father saw Hermione as business. He would never see her as anything else. But Draco had to try. "It's not."

Lucius stared, curiously, at his son. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"She's off the list."

"The list?"

"Yes."

Lucius worked hard to keep his expression vague. "What list are you – "

"Oh Father, come off it. I know there's a list and I know her name is at the top of it."

Lucius didn't know what expression to wear. He was surprised by Draco's request, confused as to why, and disappointed that he was going to have to follow the order. "Why do this?"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, taking a defensive position and preparing to defend himself and Hermione. "She's not a threat."

"She's the second biggest threat we face! She's in league with Potter, Draco. She's trying to destroy us!"

"Actually, it's us that's trying to destroy people. And she's not with Potter anymore."

"And how do you know?"

"I just know."

"Draco – " Lucius let out an exasperated sigh. "You can't trust rumor. I know you heard that Mudblood was working in Knockturn Alley, but I assure you it's not the case. It was made up to defer us, Draco; to make us think the Order has broken apart. Don't you understand? It's all a trick."

"It's not a trick."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I've spoken with her."

"You've _spoken_ with her?"

"Yes."

"And she's still alive?"

"Of course." What did he think? That Draco would just kill Hermione on the spot?

"Listen, I don't know how you talked to her, or why, but you can't trust whatever she's told you. The entire operation can be blown if we don't execute her."

Draco had to calm his temper with a few deep breaths during the conversation. All this talk of killing Hermione was angering him far beyond what was safe in front of his father. "Father – I don't take orders from you when it comes to this…" he searched for the right word, "business. I make the calls, remember? That's the way you wanted it."

"Yes, only because I thought you could handle it. If I had thought you'd be thinking with your sexual urges, I'd never had – "

"Dad! Stop! That's not what this is about. She doesn't deserve to die because she believes in something different than you."

"Different than _I_?" Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Us. Different than us." Draco tried to smooth his mistake over as a slip of the tongue, but he was sure it didn't go unnoticed.

Lucius was thoroughly curious. It was unlike Draco to defend Mudbloods, especially this particular Mudblood. And at a time like this? They were merely months away from executing their attack. Draco was becoming more and more of a Dark Lord every day. He had a long way to go yet, but still he was well on his way. Lucius didn't understand what could have happened to change his attitude. Draco was just getting back to normal after months of obvious peculiarity. When he was sneaking around with that girl (Lucius had later gotten Draco to admit that it was someone from the stocks department of the firm), Draco was not himself. In a matter of a day, he seemed to have slipped right back into the same attitude. "What exactly did the Mudblood say to you?"

Draco sighed to keep himself from exploding on his father. He really wished Lucius would stop with the name-calling. "It doesn't matter. Just take her off the list." He stood to leave. It wasn't all he came to discuss, but it would have to do for now. He could tell that his father wouldn't be willing to accept any other news today

"Fine, I'll take her off. But I can't help it if she's killed by…accident." He smirked as he watched Draco turn around on the spot.

"She will not die by accident." He narrowed his eyes. "That's an order."

Lucius stuck his chin out defiantly. Why had he ever had the bright idea to put his stubborn, stupid son in charge? "I can't control that. If she gets in the way – "

"She won't get in the way."

"You can't know that! She could – "

"She _won't_ be in the way. She's not going to know about this war."

"Draco, how do you know she isn't with Potter right now, telling him all about your little reunion?"

"Because she's upstairs!" Draco blurted out.

Lucius's eyes flashed with anger and his face drained of the little color it held. "What did you say?"

_Oh shit._ He'd hoped to break this news a little more gently. "Hermione is upstairs."

"In this house?"

"Yes."

"The hell she is." Lucius stormed out of his office, with Draco on his heels.

"Father!"

Lucius turned sharply up the staircase. "Of all the stupid things you've ever done, Draco, I cannot believe you brought a _Mudblood_ into this house!"

Draco angrily threw a curse in front of his father, causing the staircase to shake.

Lucius turned to look at his son in shock. He had never seen Draco look so angry, so harsh, so much like himself.

"Do not call her a Mudblood."

Lucius drew his wand and pointed it to Draco's throat. "Never attempt to curse me again."

Draco scoffed. "I didn't try to curse you. If I had, I would have succeeded."

"Draco Malfoy, I don't know what to do with you. You're obviously delusional if you're protecting a Mudblood."

Draco started forward, but was held back by a jab of the wand at his neck.

"What is going on here?"

Both men turned their heads to the foot of the stairs. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the nearest archway, wearing all black with her bright blonde hair pulled into a low, long ponytail. She had an apple in her hand and look of disgust on her face. "Lucius, put your bloody wand away. Whatever he's done, it's not enough to die for."

"You may disagree. He's brought a _Mudblood_ into our home."

"It's not the first time, and don't call her that." Draco suddenly felt much braver – safer – with his mother there. At least his father wouldn't lose his temper so easily.

Lucius did a double take and widened his eyes angrily. So this had been going on for a while, then. Perhaps Hermione Granger had been Draco's little love interest this whole time. This angered him further, to know that not only was his only son sticking up for Mudbloods, but he was sleeping with one, too. He'd thought Draco had better taste.

Narcissa stared at her boys, from one pale face to the other, unsure of how to react. She registered her husband's murderous glare, but her son's pained expression took precedent. "The Granger girl," she guessed.

They both looked at her, surprised.

"Mum, how did you know?"

She winked. "Mothers know everything, Draco."

Draco smirked. Of course she knew. She was the one from whom Draco got his intelligence, after all.

"Lucius, why don't we go have a cup of tea in the garden, hmm?"

"Because there's a Mudblood in my house, that's why!"

Draco raised his wand to his father. "I told you – "

Lucius mimicked the movement.

"Boys!"

They both took a deep breath and forced themselves to lower their wands.

"Come, Lucius."

"But – " he looked between his wife and son. "Didn't you hear what he's done?"

"Yes, Dear. I'm sure everyone in Britain heard. Now, come along. You can talk to your son later."

Lucius gave in with a glare to Draco, who tried to hide his relief.

"Sweetheart, why don't you get back to your guest?"

Draco was surprised at how calm his mother was. Had she really known about he and Hermione the whole time? Was she expecting this, then?

Narcissa linked her arm around her husband's and began to walk through the foyer. "Draco – there's some breakfast in the kitchen for you two." She winked again as Lucius threw one last glare, and the couple disappeared through the door.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Hermione felt warm when she woke. John must have turned the heat up for some reason. She wiggled in her bed, finding her tattered quilt strangely soft. The flat mattress was also unusually comfortable, seeming not to be lumpy at all.

Slowly beginning to wake from sleep, Hermione furrowed her brow. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be this warm, this pleasant, in the morning. Something was off.

Regrettably lifting her head from the bed, her eyes met a dark room, but she was able to recognize shapes of some of the furniture. She was sitting smack in the middle of a very large four-poster bed. In the corner was a desk, piled high with books. A lamp stood near it, and a waste can sat in front, overflowing with papers. To her right, a wall stood bare, with a glowing box all around it. It took a moment, but she recognized this as a curtained window, with light seeping in around the edges.

She stood from the bed in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants she didn't think belonged to her, and approached the thick curtains. She located the center, and with a quick jerk, pulled the panels open. She had to squint her eyes as the bright sunlight flooded the room. After giving her eyes a while to adjust, she was able to look out across the grand countryside in front of her. The morning sun shone brightly behind the mountains, creating a shadow on the green grass below. Where the sun was touching the grass, it glistened with dew; and the river in the distance sparkled as it flowed swiftly by. There were people outside, dressed in white, working with the many flowers, plants and trees. When Hermione saw two stunningly beautiful white peacocks strut across the lawn, she knew exactly where she was.

With a gasp, she turned to face the bedroom. In the light, the shapes of the room made more sense to her now. She'd been here before. She'd slept in the silver poster bed, cuddled in the green velvet linens, and showered in the adjoining bathroom. She'd read the titles of the books on the desk; she'd put that waste can on her head once while she was drunk. She'd twice stubbed her toe on the trunk at the foot of the bed. And she'd only been here once before. It was the last truly happy experience of her life. The only thing missing from the scene was the person she shared it all with.

Realizing with a stab of fear that she was alone, she began to think it was an illusion. After all, rum had once made her believe she was a vampire in an Ancient Egyptian temple. Who knew what vodka was capable of?

Wanting to leave the room to explore, but fearing what waited on the other side, she decided to just wash up instead. If it was really a dream, there couldn't be any harm in showering, right?

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Outside the bathroom, Hermione heard a soft sound. Recognizing it as the door closing, she froze. There were the sounds of footsteps, followed by a pause, and a somewhat alarmed voice. "Hermione?"

Hermione sucked in a breath. This wasn't a dream. And he wasn't a dream. It was all very real. She was in Draco Malfoy's bathtub, in his room, in his house. And he was outside the door looking for her. She jumped from the tub, splashing water on the floor, grabbed a towel, and dashed out the door.

He was standing in a beam of brilliant sunlight. The highlights in his hair reflected the sun as brightly as his gray eyes. The look of relief that hit the features of his face made Hermione's heart melt. She knew then that she had finally found her home.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_The look on his face didn't say it all. But it said enough. There was no mistaking how I felt for him in that moment. He looked like he felt the same for me. And if I hadn't have known better, I would have believed that he did. But knowing Draco Malfoy as I did, I knew it wasn't what it seemed. He was caring and loving. And he cared for me. But he didn't love me. And at that moment – I couldn't bring myself to care whether he loved me or not. All I knew was that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I was with him. And that's all I needed._

_After making love right there on his bedroom floor, we had a lot to sort out. I was clearly unwelcome in his house, by his father's standards, at least. Draco's mother was very kind, surprisingly. I'd never imagined she could be so…nice. But Draco had to learn that little bit of compassion he had from somewhere. And I knew it wasn't from Lucius._

_I refused to leave the safety of Draco's bedroom for days. I didn't trust what his father would do to me. Draco assured me that his father had calmed down, and Narcissa had gotten him to see reason. But I still couldn't face that man. He scared the living daylights out of me before I was an unwanted guest in his home, before I'd clearly been marked for death – I could only imagine what coming face to face with him would have been like. But when Draco finally did coax me out of the room for a family dinner, I got to see the full extent of Lucius's hatred for me._

_It was the most uncomfortable formal situation I'd ever been in. For one, I hadn't eaten at a dining room table in months. I had forgotten many manners of correct etiquette. For another thing, I was being served by house-elves. I didn't like that the Malfoy's had these servants. I was very against it, but I never saw them mistreated in my presence, so I kept my mouth shut. Lastly, and most importantly, I was a Mudblood sitting at a Pureblood table. It was one of the first things Lucius mentioned as we sat for dinner. That there had never been anyone other than the pure of blood to sit at his father's table, and now it was all ruined. Narcissa had laid into him well for that one, and Draco threw some dirty looks while squeezing my hand under the table. I decided then that Lucius would never accept me. I tried to get Draco to let me leave. Oh, I could have gone any time I wanted, if that's what I really wanted. He wasn't physically keeping me in the house. But he wanted me to stay, and I wanted to stay. But I also wanted away from Lucius. And I wanted Draco to want me to leave, too. It would give me an excuse to get out. But as long as Draco wanted me there – I was there, like he was there for me._

_Months passed in this awkward little arrangement. I tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. I rarely ventured downstairs, and when I did, it was when Lucius and Draco were both at work. I somehow managed to form a bond with Narcissa. She stayed home as well, and I often found myself talking to her during the day while we were alone. She was nothing like I thought she would be, and yet she was much like Draco. I expected her to be very serious and cold, but she was actually warm and friendly. It amazed me at first, honestly. But then I got used to it. Draco started to notice how Narcissa and I got along. I couldn't really understand his reaction to it. All I know is that he wasn't angry. I was getting better at remembering how to read his expressions, but I still wasn't up to par._

_I think a lot of it attributed to the alcohol that I continued to drink nightly. Draco and I slipped back into our old routine. Booze and sex. Over and over again. Night after night. The only difference now was that I wasn't writing letters anymore. I was just thinking and feeling. And the freedom was wonderful. I realized that Lucius wasn't around as often as I'd assumed. And to my surprise, neither was Draco. They often went missing at the same time. I was already suspicious of those two, and their frequent disappearances furthered my curiosity._

_Freedom was actually something that I had a lot of in Malfoy Manor, once I'd gotten over my cowardliness and taken advantage of it. It was so large that I could actually go 'exploring.' I had found all kinds of amazing things in the house. Ancient figurines, rousing books, and mysterious hidden passageways were among the things I came across daily. It was one night, though, that changed everything. I was wandering through the Manor, when I came to Lucius's study. I should have known better than to go in, but there was this mysterious, sort of thumping sound coming from the otherwise empty room. I let my curiosity get the better of me; and soon discovered what Draco and Lucius were really up to. What I found chilled my blood, but enlivened me at the same time._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 20, 2005**

Where was that banging coming from? There was nobody in this room, but the noise sounded so close. Hermione followed the next crash to a bookcase on the wall. She noticed there was a strange draft coming from the edges. "What in the world?"

Hermione examined the shelves and found something unusual. She was momentarily distracted by the familiar names of the books on the shelf. She smiled, knowing that they were some of Draco's favorites. She turned her attention back to a lever underneath the shelf. She checked the room to make sure she wasn't being watched, and pulled the lever. The draft turned to a gust of wind as the bookcase opened with a shudder to reveal a descending staircase. Hermione took a moment to muster her courage as she stared at the colorful glow at the foot of the stairs. It reminded her of a television show she used to watch – one about a mad scientist.

She hesitated, thinking that maybe she should ask Draco about this first, but took a step down anyway. As she continued, the sounds became more distinct. She could hear something boiling. A potion, maybe? It would explain the laboratory feel of the space. She also heard things moving. And grunting. Not things – people. They sounded tired, and stressed – like they were fighting. Every so often there would be a bang or crash. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped off the last step and turned to the left where the noise originated. She couldn't help but let a gasp escape.

Standing across the large room from here were two tall, slender blond men. Lucius was clad in his usual black, but had shed his heavy cloak. Draco was unusually clothed in only a pair of black athletic pants. _Where did he even get those?_ Hermione wondered. They were both drenched in sweat. Lucius's hair was looking greasier than normal, and Draco's dripped when he moved his head. His chest was glistening through what little blond chest hair he had, and Hermione took the time to appreciate his body. She'd seen it many times in the past several months, but had never been sober enough to fully understand his beauty. Her eyes, however, were quickly averted to the rapid movements his right arm was making. There, he held his wand, and across from him, Lucius did the same. They were dueling. And Draco was losing.

Hermione fought the urge to whip out her wand and help him. Instead, she just watched intensely, as the battle heated. She could tell by the expression on Draco's face that he wasn't in any real danger. They were only doing this for practice – for reasons that Hermione couldn't fathom. She slowly became mesmerized by their precision and grace – and by their strength. She had seen them both in battle before, but this time was different. Maybe it was because she was an onlooker, and not the opposing team that made their skillful dueling so interesting to observe.

It took her a while to even notice that she hadn't heard the names of the curses they were using. Lucius didn't have to say many of his curses – he was so skilled that he could perform them silently. And Draco, even, only had to speak a few of them aloud. The ones Hermione could hear, however, were unfamiliar, and she had a strange feeling that they spawned form dark magic.

The duel continued until Draco finally surrendered. Lucius was happy that he had won, but disappointed in his son's concession. The look on his face changed from satisfaction, to disgust, to pure shock when he turned and saw Hermione at the bottom of the staircase.

_Oh Merlin._

He was going to kill her – she knew it. He was going to throw one of those curses in her direction, and she'd have no idea what to try and defend herself from. It was all about to be over. She looked to Draco one last time – so that she would always remember his face as the last thing she would ever see in this life. But his expression shook her up so much that she forgot all about dying. He looked surprised, yes, but she thought she picked up a trace of relief on his face. It was as if he'd been glad she found out their dirty little secret – glad that she knew the truth about whom he was. He was a Death Eater. Still. They both were. Hermione thought they were all dead or converted. But here stood two of them. And from what she just witnessed, two of the most deadly.

It was strange what she was feeling at the moment. She was appalled by what they were doing – especially Draco. The last time someone had started something like this, Draco had lost two loved ones. She couldn't understand why he would risk going through all that again. _Because he doesn't have anybody left to lose, _she thought. She also felt pity. Draco didn't look like he wanted to be standing there, dueling with his father and thinking of a way to explain this all to her. He looked like this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. But the surprising thing was that she felt…intrigued. She was enthralled by what they were doing. They seemed so graceful, skillful, powerful…

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I didn't know what to think. I was against dark magic, but somehow I didn't fight Draco on the matter. I got the feeling that he was only doing it for his father. It had been a long time since I'd heard Draco speak ill of his father, but I could still tell how he felt. I knew how pressured he was, and I knew how important it was for him to impress Lucius. And even if I didn't agree with it, I wasn't about to refute it._

_I just let them go about training, trying to mind my own business. I can't say that I did a very good job at it, though. I found myself sneaking down to the basement to look through all their supplies. The spell books, potions, and weapons were some of the most elaborate I'd seen in the wizarding world. I couldn't believe how smart the wizards that wrote them had to be. They were amazing. _

_Eventually, Draco found me snooping around and confronted me about it. The conversation was tense. I didn't know how I felt about it, and neither did he. But he explained the importance of what they were doing – what he was doing. He was training to become the next Dark Lord. The news was more than shocking to me. It was almost impossible to accept. But after talking with Draco, and learning his reasons and beliefs, I decided that if this was what he needed to do, then I wasn't going to fight him on it. After all, I was in no position to be deciding what was right and wrong anymore. So as they continued to train, I began to watch. And learn a little bit on my own._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**October 10, 2005**

"Draco, could you come in here please?"

As he passed by the library, his mother called out to him. He put a smile on his face and opened the slightly ajar door. "Yes, Mum?"

"Sweetheart, come have a seat." She put down her book and patted the sofa beside her, moving her slender, outstretched legs to make room for him.

Draco gave a fake smile. He was a little nervous about this talk. His mother didn't do this kind of thing often, but when she did want to have a serious talk, it was either bad or embarrassing. He sat down with grace, forcing himself to turn toward her so his body language didn't give away his discomfort.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what, Mother?" He took on his professional voice.

Narcissa chuckled. "Calm down, Boy. There's nothing to be so serious about. I just wanted to talk about Hermione."

Draco noticeably tensed. He tried to think of anything that he and Hermione might have done to bring attention to themselves, but other than drinking and having sex in his parents' house, he was coming up blank.

"Draco, I'm concerned."

So was it the drinking? Or the sex? _Oh God, please don't let her want to talk about the sex. Please._

"I've been talking to Hermione a lot lately, as I'm sure you know."

Draco was appalled. _My God!_ Could she have _really_ been talking to his mother about their sex life?

"I've noticed some things about the two of you that worry me."

Draco couldn't take it anymore. "Look, Mum, please don't, okay? Can we please not talk about this?"

"Narcissa was confused by the disgusted look on Draco's face. "What?"

"Yes, Mum, Hermione and I are um…" he searched for the most appropriate word to use in front of his mother, "intimate. But I _really_ don't want to talk about it and there's no need for you to be worried."

"For Merlin's sake, Draco, I wasn't talking about…" she, too, searched for the right word, "_that_."

"Y – you weren't?"

"No! I haven't the slightest interest in your…well, you know." She gave a disgusted shiver of her own.

Draco cocked his head to the side. On the one hand, he was interested. Because if that's not what she was so worried about, then what was? And on the other hand, he was mortified and angry with himself, for bringing the subject up unnecessarily.

"Oh, well, you know that if you ever need to talk about…anything, you can always come to me." She quickly made that clear.

Draco nodded his head, eager to get on to the real subject and forget this whole conversation ever happened. "Yeah, I know. Now what did you really want to talk about?"

"Well – I've noticed things about you, Draco." She softened her voice, trying to be delicate. "You've changed."

"Changed?" Draco wasn't quite sure where she was going with this.

"Grown. You've grown up so much, my baby." She lovingly ran her hand through his chin-length hair, tucking it just behind his ear. "And I know that a lot of it has been the fault of your father and myself. We made you grown up entirely too fast. And I'm so sorry for that – for dragging you into our mistakes."

Draco frowned. He never knew that his mother thought that way. He hadn't made the choice to grow up so fast, but neither had she. As for his father…yeah, okay, he might be partly to blame. But even though it wasn't her fault, Draco still thought it was nice of somebody to apologize.

"Honey, I don't want you to miss out on anything else. You missed being a child. You've always been like a miniature adult." She smirked. It was very similar to Lucius's and Draco's, but different coming from her feminine lips. It was much more like Hermione's.

"Mum, it's – "

"Don't say it's okay. It isn't."

Draco smiled. She could always read him so well. He didn't know why he even tried to hide things from her sometimes.

"You've had to deal with things that no one should ever have to. You've seen things that children should never see. You've had to give up so many things."

"But I've gained a lot, too, Mum. You just don't see it like I do." He was referring to Hermione. He didn't want to regret anything that's happened to him. Because it brought them together. And even if he was the only person in the world to ever know that, it was all right, because it's what kept him going.

"I know. I do see it. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I can see what a difference Hermione has made in your life. She's a lovely girl, Draco, and you're lucky to have each other. I just wanted to make sure you understand that it's okay to tell her."

Draco laughed uncomfortably. "Tell her what?"

Narcissa looked at him accusingly. He didn't fool her. Why would he even try? "You know what."

Draco looked to his lap – somewhat embarrassed, and somewhat saddened, because the truth was that he _couldn't_ tell her.

"She should know."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't feel the same way."

"I think she does."

"She told you?" He looked up hopefully.

"She didn't have to. I can see it in her eyes when she talks about you."

Draco lowered his gaze again, downhearted. "You can never tell with Hermione."

"_I_ can. And I could tell it in yours if you'd look at me." She lightly lifted Draco's chin.

Draco hated it, but his eyes started to water. "I don't know what to do."

"Just tell her."

"You don't understand! I can't do it! I'm not strong enough."

"Draco, you can. I promise you that you have the strength. You're the strongest person I know. You've got incredible resilience, Son; and a beautiful heart that you should share with her. I assure you that you can."

Draco was silent. He was toying with the idea that his mother might be right about Hermione – the she might just feel the same way. But she was so in love with Weasley back then. Draco didn't see how she could love anyone else – much less him.

"What is it?" Narcissa frowned at her son's painful expression. "Are you afraid?"

Draco suddenly stood, somewhat angrily, and paced in front of the sofa. "Of course I'm afraid!" he shouted. "The last person that I – " he stopped, taking a deep breath and counting to ten to calm down. "Sorry." He apologized for having a temper with his mother.

She merely smiled sadly. "Darling, it's okay to be afraid. But you can't be so scared that you don't follow your heart. I understand your reluctance to feel that way about anyone again – especially after your heart took such a big blow. But you can't help it. You've already fallen in love with her."

Draco looked up at his mother. For a moment, their eyes locked, and the force of her words came down on him. He _did_ love Hermione. He'd flirted with the idea of it for a long time, he had even tried to admit it to himself a couple times; but he'd never actually thought that anyone else could ever know. But now his mother was fully aware. And she was supportive, unlike Draco thought anyone would ever be. Having just one person to know he loved Hermione made it seem so much more real. He could only imagine how it would feel if she knew the truth. He made up his mind, then, that he was going to tell her. He had to. He owed it to her to tell her how he really felt.

_But what if she doesn't feel the same way?_

It didn't matter. No matter how Hermione felt about him, he _needed_ her to know.

With a deep breath and an affirming nod of his head, he kissed his mother on the cheek. "Thanks, Mum." He exited the library and checked his watch. It was nearly ten o'clock, and he knew where Hermione would be – out on the terrace, drinking the pain of the night away.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

They were words that would have been better left unspoken. But he had to say them. He felt compelled to tell her the truth. She deserved to know.

Though they shouldn't surprise her, he would be surprised by however she reacted. He didn't have any idea where she stood, and was both looking forward to and dreading her response. For if she loved him back, he could revel in the fact that they felt the same way, but it would make for some complications in his current…_career_ tract. And if she didn't love him, it would make things so much simpler, but he had to admit to himself that he would be close to devastated.

He walked out of his bedroom and onto the terrace where Hermione was sitting in a cushioned chair. She had her hand wrapped loosely around a bottle of Jack Daniels, which was resting on her folded knee. Her head was resting against the chair, and her eyes were closed. She was wrapped in a blue blanket and had on jeans, a read sweater, and fuzzy house slippers. It was cold, and the hot breath hitting the crisp air showed her even breathing. Draco knew she was close to passing out. She looked so peaceful.

"Hermione?"

Her name arose a stir from her otherwise still body.

"Hermione." He knelt down on the ground in front of her.

She drowsily fluttered her teary eyes open – her eyelashes close to freezing together.

Draco assessed her tears, though he was used to her crying as she drank late at night. "You okay?'

She smiled and nodded her head, leaning it back and closing her eyes again.

Draco sighed. She was so pitiful. "Can we talk?"

It took a minute, but she replied, "mmm-hmm."

"Hermione, I need you to ay attention."

She took a deep, exhausted breath and opened her heavy eyelids. "I am paying attention," she slurred; and she took a drink of whiskey.

He smiled sadly. "To me, Honey. I need you to pay attention to _me._"

She smiled. "Okay." She reached out for him and planted a long, simple kiss on his lips.

Draco's heart raced at her touch, and kissed her for a moment before breaking it off. "That's not what I meant, Love." He surprised himself. He'd called her that before, but not since realizing his real feelings for her.

"Hmm, okay." She lazily slumped back into her original position, keeping her eyes closed. She reached for the bottle again, but this time it was gently pulled from her grasp.

"Why don't we put this away for tonight?"

She whined, but shifted in the seat, preparing for the sleep that was creeping up on her.

"Hermione, are you listening?"

"Yeah." She managed to form a word rather that just a sound, so Draco took it as a good enough confirmation that she was.

"Okay." He paused to collect his thought. "Do you remember when you came here a year ago, and told me that we had to stop blaming ourselves for everything that had happened? That we needed to get it together and move on?"

Hermione's thoughts were fuzzy. She could hear Draco's muffled voice. Was he covering his mouth? She couldn't tell – her eyes wouldn't open on their own and she didn't have the strength to force them. She was close to falling asleep, but she could still process Draco's voice. Of course she remembered that – how could she forget? That was the day she fell in love with him. She tried to speak, but was so sleepy that it only sounded like a grunt.

"Well, I think you're right. We do need to move on. Together."

Hermione couldn't tell if he had stopped talking or if it was just her. But she couldn't hear him anymore. She was slipping into unconsciousness. She could feel herself being pulled away from reality – into the darkness.

"…And that's why I have to tell you this. I know it might not be the right time, but if I don't say it now, I never will." Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I love you, Hermione Granger. And I want you to stay with me – forever."

The silence didn't shock him. He'd expected her to be speechless for a moment. But the fact that it lingered did draw his attention. He finally pulled his gaze to her face, which was peaceful and still. She showed no emotion. Her body hadn't shifted in the slightest.

He sighed.

She hadn't heard him.

Draco shook his head, feeling sadder because she didn't know than he could have felt towards any reaction she gave. He said it, finally, and she was too wasted to hear it. With a sigh, he picked up her seemingly lifeless body and carried her to bed. Tucking her in, he gave one last regretful sigh. She was so beautiful. He loved her so much. And he didn't think he'd ever have the strength to say it again.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I wasn't sure what brought it on, but I noticed that, there for a while, Draco became more distant from me. He wasn't as affectionate (not that he was ever a big cuddly teddy bear or anything), and he spent more and more time with his father. Training._

_I still wasn't sure how I felt about the whole ordeal. Especially after Draco started keeping his distance from me. He became grouchy and borderline mean at times. He seemed so bitter. I didn't know what I'd done to bring on the hatefulness, so I attributed it to his increased obsession with Death Eater Training. _

_I took to watching him quite often. Lucius didn't like it – he still wasn't convinced I wasn't just a spy or something. But a spy for who? The Order of the Phoenix? Please. I knew the Order wasn't assembled. There was no need. You-Know-Who was dead and gone. Nobody saw any need for the Order. They didn't have any idea that a new Dark Lord was coming closer to power, and that if he had a little bit of proper guidance, he would be very strong._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**November 2, 2005**

"Avada Kedavra!"

The sack of flour in the corner of the Malfoy's dark basement didn't budge. It merely sat there, mocking its competitor.

"You have to mean it, Draco. Try it a little louder." Lucius Malfoy carried an armful of potion ingredients from one room to the next.

Draco sighed. "It's no use. If I can't curse a bloody sack of flour, I can't curse a wizard."

"Well," Lucius condescendingly put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "It should be easier to curse a good wizard. They're arguably dumber than that old sack." He laughed, and peered out of the corner of his eyes at Hermione, who was across the room examining some spell books.

But she wasn't bothered by his petty little comments anymore. She'd gotten used to them by now.

Draco wasn't amused, and shook off Lucius's hand. "They're not stupid."

Lucius was a little surprised. "Defending them, now, are you, Draco?"

"I'm not defending anyone. We're the ones attacking, remember, Dad? They're on the defense."

"They don't even know what's coming."

"Which is why this is so unfair!

"Fair!"

Even Hermione looked up from her book when Lucius raised his voice. She was used to him being angry, but he didn't usually yell.

"Has any part of your life been fair, Draco? These wizards you defend – has anything they have done been out of fairness? They pretend to be selfless and charitable, but they only do it for their own credibility. They kill our kind, because they think we're so much worse. It's nothing if a dark wizard is killed. Not to them. The consequences for murder only exist for those of us who didn't invent them."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, quizzically. As she thought about his abnormally insightful statement, she realized that he might be right. Maybe it wasn't the Death Eaters who were always wrong. Perhaps some of the blame for the constant strife lied with good wizards, as well.

"This is why, Draco, you must be strong. You have to fight the unfairness and rise above it. You have to give one hundred percent if you want to succeed."

Draco sighed. He knew his father was right. If he was going to go through with this, he had to do it completely. Either give it all or back out. "And what if I don't want to succeed? What if I change my mind and decide not to do this?"

"Not to become the Dark Lord?" Lucius was baffled by such preposterous news.

"Yes."

Lucius took a deep breath, while Hermione watched on attentively. "Then tell me now. And I'll find a replacement."

"Does the same apply if I _can't_ do it?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Then we shall find a way to handle the situation in a discreet and appropriate manner."

Hermione knew what that meant. She had spent enough time around Lucius to know what his subtle death threats sounded like. She could tell that Draco was about to respond to the threat, and knew that nothing good would come of it. She'd witnessed a heated duel between the two the last time they'd been angry. Draco swore he was all right, but Hermione didn't believe him. He knew Lucius had hurt him, whether it was intentional or not. She couldn't let him hurt Draco again.

"I want to try." She jumped from her seat without thinking. She needed something to distract them both so that they didn't start fighting. And to be honest, she was a bit curious.

Lucius laughed. Yeah right, like she was going to be able to do anything.

"Are you mad, Hermione?" Draco immediately tore his attention away from his father.

"No, Draco. I really want to try."

"But – but it's an Unforgivable Curse."

"I've done a lot of unforgivable things. I can't imagine that one more would hurt." She stepped up to Draco's position and gently pushed him out of the way. "Besides, it's only a sack of flour, right?"

Draco, mouth hanging open, backed out of the way; he was at a loss for anything else to do.

Lucius found the whole situation very entertaining. He was in a mood for a little laughter, anyway. Why not let her try it? It wasn't like Draco was actually getting anywhere. "All right, _Mudblood_, let's see what you've got."

Hermione narrowed her eyes to him and drew her wand. The name-calling only made her that much more determined. She reverted her attention back to the inanimate object. She stared at it with as much hatred as she could muster. She thought about Draco's stupid friends, starting a fire in the Room of Requirement. She thought about Snape, murdering Dumbledore. She thought about Ginny, kicking her out of the Burrow. She thought about ProfessorTrelawney, pissing her off in her third year. She thought about John firing her, Lord Voldemort wreaking havoc on the wizarding world, Wormtail causing Sirius and Harry not to be together, Lavender Brown always flirting with Ron, Rita Skeeter printing false news about her in the Daily Prophet, and Lucius, always treating her like the scum of the earth and never giving her a chance to prove herself.

Well now was her chance. She raised her wand, and thought lastly of herself, and how she had wasted so much time fighting for things that would never happen. Fighting for good – which would never exist in this world.

With a sudden surge of conviction, she narrowed her eyes and brought all this pent up anger to her lips, to make them say the words that, until now, she'd been terrified of and sure that she would never say. "Avada Kedavra!"

The room echoed with the sounds of the blast. White powder fell like snow all around the three wizards. They were covered head to toe; Lucius and Draco's pale hair barely showed through the flour on their heads. Hermione breathed hard, not taking her eyes off the corner where the bag had just been destroyed, and not caring that she was breathing in flour. The power she felt when saying the Killing Curse made her shiver with excitement. She stared in disbelief at what had just happened; but she also stared with a hint of superiority. She had been able to blast the sack. And Draco hadn't.

It didn't go unnoticed by either Draco or Lucius, who were just as quiet and motionless as Hermione for a moment. When Lucius had accepted what just happened, he approached Hermione from the back and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Good hit – Miss Granger."

Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about her.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I realize it's been a long time. But I have a good excuse this time-I promise. I just got my computer back after not having seen it since Christmas. I had this chapter almost completely finished when my screen went crazy. I couldn't seen but about two inches on the top of it. It was ridiculous. So it had to go to the doctor and ended up needing an entirely brand new screen. Thank GOD it was covered under warranty is all I'm saying. So since then, I've been writing in a notebook when inspiration strikes, and I just typed it all up. So here's the next chapter – which I'm excited about; because it's finally getting into some of more interesting parts of my story outline. My favorite parts, anyway. =) Let me know if you think so, too!

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_It was then that I became interested in the dark arts. That one time that I had performed the Killing Curse was the closest thing to magic that I'd felt in a long time. I felt like my old self again – except better. Stronger. _

_Draco didn't like the idea of me snooping around the family's hidden lair – which I'd taken to doing while Draco and Lucius trained. I found their training sessions very exciting. I was mesmerized by how fast they could move; yet how stealthy their actions came across. I found that I envied them._

_Dark arts made sense to me for once. I even helped, much to Lucius's glee and Draco's dismay. Lucius began to give me tasks; mostly small things, like Narcissa did. Fetching and potion mixing. That sort of thing. As he began to trust me, I found that I did the same. I began to trust the dark arts. I believed that somehow, they could save me. That maybe this was what I had been looking for all this time. Maybe this was where I belonged. Here with Draco. Perhaps we were meant for each other, and for this life._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 23, 2005**

As he neared his climax, Draco tightened his grip on Hermione's hair, pulling harder than before. She cried out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. She latched onto his hips, which were thrusting into her with conviction. He was hell-bent on pleasing her, panting and looking into her eyes with the utmost passion.

Neither was disappointed when Hermione's body shook with pure pleasure. She closed her eyes and threw her head back as wave after wave of glorious release hit her body. She bucked her hips up involuntarily, and her back arched into Draco. He grasped onto her body tightly, planting hungry kisses on her neck and chest. His swollen lips slid across her sweaty, pink flesh as he left little bites on her succulent skin. Coming down from her high, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him on the mouth. She pulled away to whisper in his ear.

"You're amazing."

Draco closed his eyes and groaned, her praise causing his body to break out in heat. He moved faster, striving now for his own release. Within seconds, he climaxed, sighing as Hermione's body graciously took his gift. He rolled off her and lay panting in the sheets next to her. Both their bodies were covered in sweat, and even the cold December air coming through the open window couldn't cool them off.

After catching his breath, Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He guessed that now was as good a time as any. "You know, Hermione, you shouldn't be meddling in dark arts."

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She was coming back to reality and had to try hard to process his words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you should really think about this before you get too far into it. It can change you before you've realized it." He turned his head away from her, just to make sure his emotion remained hidden. He knew all too well how this magic could change a person.

Hermione shook her head, still not fully understanding. Maybe it was the fault of the mind-blowing sex she just had, but she couldn't comprehend exactly what he meant. "What are you talking about? You're messing around with it. What's the difference?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "The difference is – I know what I'm doing. I know that I could lose everything because of this. I don't think you understand that."

She rolled over to look audaciously at him. How dare he presume to tell her that she didn't understand the consequences. She knew what she was getting into. She thought about the choice for days after the first time she used a dark spell. She weighed her options very carefully, and this was the decision she had come to – to practice dark arts. To learn all she could and stand beside the love of her life when he finally rose to power.

She knew it changed people. But that's what she was looking for – a change. She needed one. She was sick of her life that was taking her nowhere. And even if this wasn't a path that Draco had planned for her, and was one that he disapproved of, it was the one that felt right. She knew what she had to do to make herself feel complete. She was going to stay with the dark arts, no matter what Draco said to convince her otherwise. She was going to become a Death Eater.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that." Draco didn't even turn his eyes to see her expression. He knew by her silence and accelerated breathing that she was angry with him. He couldn't really blame her. He supposed he was being slightly hypocritical. After all, he was telling her not to do the very thing that he was doing. The only difference was that he didn't want to do any of it – not since getting her back in his life – and she chose this. It was like he remembered what it was like to be good again. And somehow, she had forgotten.

"I'll look at you any way I damn well please," she huffed. "It's none of your business what I choose to do with my life. I don't answer to you!"

"If you want to become a Death Eater, you will."

She crinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes in an almost ugly expression at his smug words. They were clearly meant to piss her off; and to make her want to stop all she was doing. But she was smarter than to fall for his little games. Instead, she stood from the bead with a huff, stark naked, and stormed into the bathroom.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed as the door slammed. He looked at the ceiling in reverie. He hadn't wanted to anger her, but he didn't want her to become a Death Eater, either. And if angering her were the only way to make her understand just how much he didn't want her to become a Death Eater, then it would just have to be done. He couldn't bear losing her. He had a bad feeling about this war. He had little confidence that he could pull it off like his father so positively claimed. Draco didn't want anything to do with this, and he regretted ever getting involved. He wished that Hermione hadn't found out about any of this. He wished that when she had found out, she would've had the sense to flee and not trust him anymore. He wished that when she'd shown the utmost trust in him, she had been smart enough not to get herself involved in these war games. He wished she weren't so bloody stubborn.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_What does one get for the most stubborn person alive? It was almost Christmas – my first Christmas with the Malfoys, you may have noticed. And I had absolutely no idea what to get for Draco. We were obviously together, but there was a mutual understanding that it was only out of convenience. It's not like we were some big, romantic couple you read about in books or see in films. We were just two people who were in the same boat, and just happened to be of opposite sexes. The rest of the story just kind of falls into place, don't you think?_

_Lucius and Narcissa were strangely simple to buy for. Just any old thing would do for them. So that's exactly what they got – just simple little things that were so impersonal, they're not really even worth mentioning. But shopping for Draco was different. I wasn't sure what to do. Was I supposed to get him something useful, or something to look at? Was I supposed to show how well I know him and get something personal? How personal should it be? Should I look like I put a lot of time into it, or should it just look thrown together at the last minute? Well, either way, it probably looked thrown together. It _was_ at the last moment, by the way. _

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**December 25, 2005**

"Merry Christmas, Love." Draco planted a kiss on Hermione's warm cheek, waking her from her sleep. She groaned, showing her distaste in waking, but snuggled into his body. He chuckled and hugged her tight. "Wake up, Hermione. Its Christmas morning." He whispered the words softly in her ear as he coaxed her from her sleep. "Time to see what Santa brought you."

She snorted, not yet opening her eyes. "I'll bet it's nothing to shout about. I haven't been very good this year."

"Well, stay here if you want. But I'm going downstairs to see what I've got under the tree." He rolled off the bed, nude, and stepped swiftly into a pair of pajama pants in the floor.

Hermione rolled over and watched as he quickly put his robe on. "I don't know what you're in such a hurry for. You haven't been good this year, either."

He finished the movement of tying his robe slowly and smirked in her direction. "Compared to years past, I've been an angel." He winked and left the room.

Hermione couldn't argue with that logic – he probably had been better this year than ever before. He used to be a very bad person. And well – at least he hadn't killed anyone this year. Not that she knew of, anyway. She shuddered at the thought and got out of bed herself. She took her time brushing her teeth, combing her wild hair, and dressing in her own pajamas and robe before joining Draco downstairs.

The large, live Christmas tree took up a good amount of the Malfoys' living room. It was a vibrant green, decorated with red, green and silver, and topped with a sparkling star. Hermione cocked her head curiously at the star. She'd seen the tree before, but hadn't paid much attention. The star had to be enchanted by magic to glow like that. It just had to.

Underneath the tree was an assortment of different colored, shaped, and sized packages. There was a toy train weaving in between the stacks of gifts, also running off magic, Hermione assumed, as there were no visible tracks. Lucius was feeding the fireplace, Narcissa was asking a house elf to clean up a shattered ornament, and Draco was sitting in the floor next to the tree, sipping a cup of coffee and smiling brilliantly at Hermione.

She returned the smile and sat next to him, hugging his arm. She kissed his cheek, realizing she hadn't given him a proper greeting this morning. "Merry Christmas."

He grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Dad, Mum, are you ready to open presents?"

"Tsk, tsk, Draco. Nineteen years old and you're still as excited as when you were five." Lucius abandoned the fire, and sat beside his wife on the loveseat, touching Hermione's shoulder in greeting as he passed.

Narcissa laughed and put her hand on Lucius's knee as he sat. "Go on, kids, pass them out."

They did as instructed, and everyone began ripping into the packages at once. It took all of five minutes for almost every package to be unwrapped. Hermione was glad to see that Lucius was pleased with his silver flask, diamond-encrusted with the Malfoy Crest – a joint gift from Draco and herself; and that Narcissa favored her crystal vase that Hermione had special-ordered from Tiffany & Co.

She looked to Draco to see his expression to her gift, but he hadn't opened it yet. He was waiting until they could open theirs together. "Okay," she said, trying to hide her excitement, "you first."

Draco smiled and unwrapped the square box in his lap. He furrowed his brow in confusion at the picture on the box. It looked like some sort of electronic device. He opened it and pulled out a palm-sized gadget with a blank screen. He looked up to Hermione, hoping she could explain what it was.

She caught onto his confusion. "It's a PDA. A muggle device. You use it to keep track of important dates and information and such." She looked Lucius when he gave a snort, and back to Draco, whose expression mildly matched that of his father. She rolled her eyes. "Look, I know you don't like muggle things, but this one is actually very useful. Just give it a shot, okay? I'll show you how to use it later."

He smiled and kissed her quickly on the lips. At least she tried. And who knows? Perhaps this thing could be useful after all. "Thank you."

She smiled, happy that he was genuinely pleased with the gift.

"Now you." Draco practically bounced in his seat, anxiously awaiting her reaction to the gift.

Hermione bit her bottom lip in anticipation as she took the bow off the tiny box in her hand. With some difficulty, she pulled the top off and stared at the contents with wide eyes. She looked up to Draco, to make sure this was meant for her; his hopeful expression confirmed that it was. She drew her attention back to the silver chain inside the box. Attached was a gorgeous diamond pendant. It sparkled slightly in the bright light of the morning sun shining into the room. The center was cut out, so that the diamonds formed the outline of a perfectly symmetrical heart. It was so beautiful. It must have cost him a fortune.

"So," he prompted, "what do you think?"

Hermione was speechless. She looked into his grey eyes, so full of life and excitement, and couldn't think of anything to do other than kiss him. She kept it quick, because they were in front of his parents, but the hidden message foreshadowed that there would be a much better thank you in store later. "It's beautiful."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_For the next couple of months, I trained with Draco. I offered suggestions, and he did the same for me. I think he realized I wasn't backing out and that he'd better help me so I didn't get myself killed. It was hard to keep up with him – he'd already learned so much. But I was a fast learner, and Lucius and Draco were good teachers. I hadn't realized before how Lucius's lessons helped Draco before I got involved; but the more I trained, the more I realized that he was actually very good at all this. Lucius wasn't a Death Eater just out of convenience. He was a Death Eater because he was good at it. Draco was good at it. And I was getting there._

_I worked really hard. I wanted so badly to prove that I could do this. I know Lucius still had his doubts about me, but for the most part he seemed to trust me. Hell, there were sometimes when I thought he might even have _liked_ me. He was definitely warming up to me and respecting my magical ability. Even as a father, I think he approved of me as his son's…whatever I was. He didn't call me a Mudblood anymore. Oh, he still used the word for every other muggle-born witch or wizard in the world, but not me. Draco was happy about it. He liked that Lucius was beginning to like me. He just wasn't very thrilled about the reasons._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**April 6, 2006**

"Granger, didn't I just show you how to block that curse?" Lucius thundered. He cast a charm that froze Hermione and Draco in place.

They looked to him in annoyance. It was the third time they'd been magically forced to stop their duel.

"Do you remember the movement, Granger?"

She grit her teeth. "Yes."

"Show me."

She snapped her head, the only part of her body she could move, in his direction. "I can't. You've got me standing here like a stone statue."

"I can turn you to stone, if you'd like," he threatened.

Without missing a beat, Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What are you going to do? Look at me?"

Draco smirked, and tried not to laugh aloud. Hermione was quite the firecracker when she was frustrated. Draco especially enjoyed himself when she was frustrated with Lucius. There were times when she showed way more bravery to Lucius than Draco ever had. And for that, he admired her.

"Watch it, Child."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you going to unfreeze us now?"

"Are you going to get it right this time?"

"Yes," she answered smugly.

"Fine. You'd better." Lucius waved his wand, and Draco and Hermione were instantly able to move again.

They picked up on their duel without hesitation and when Draco threw the curse again, Hermione deferred it perfectly, and threw it in Lucius's direction. He stepped aside calmly, not surprised at all by her actions. Instead, he was amused. He rather liked that she got so worked up over things. It's why he was so much harder on her than Draco. That, and she had so much more to learn. But in the past months, she _had_ learned. A substantial amount. She was practically on Draco's level.

And Draco was ready. They both were.

Lucius watched them throw and successfully block a few more curses, just for fun, before calling their duel to an end. He allowed them a moment to catch their breaths while he prepared what he was going to say. There was so much to tell them. They'd come so far, and for a while there, he was afraid he'd never get to make this speech. But the time had come, and they were ready to hear it. They were ready to know. They were ready to reign.

"Draco, my boy," Lucius started, as he squared Draco's shoulders to his own, "you've impressed me beyond belief. I worried that you would not learn, and that you would not want to. But you've given me more than I ever asked for. You've made me proud."

Draco's stomach did a little flip with his father's proud words. He wasn't expecting such from him, and even though he'd done all this for the very purpose of impressing his father, he hadn't actually expected to achieve his approval.

Lucius looked into his son's eyes, and felt as if he were looking in a mirror. They were gray and cold, but looked warmer than he'd ever seen before. He placed his hand on Draco's cheek and gave a loving tap before turning his eyes on Hermione.

She was still trying to catch her breath, and was swelling with pride when Lucius praised Draco. He had finally achieved everything he ever wanted – he had pleased his father. Hermione knew that this was what Draco always strived for. And now it had happened. Hermione felt like she, herself, had accomplished such a feat. Draco was her other half; and she felt what he felt. And right now – they both felt extravagant. But when she saw Lucius turn to her, she immediately tensed. Just because Draco got a good review, didn't mean she would. In fact, it usually happened that she didn't receive positive feedback after a duel. And today she had messed up, smarted off, _and_ thrown a curse at Lucius. What was about to come couldn't possibly be good.

She flinched when Lucius touched her shoulder, but he ignored it. "You've done well, Hermione."

At the sound of her first name, Hermione locked eyes with Lucius, bewildered. He noticed that her eyes had changed very much since the first time he noticed them, years ago. They were no longer as deep and inviting. They were still warm, but they were older and wiser. They had taken on many characteristics of Draco's eyes. _She _had taken on many characteristics of Draco. It was undeniable that they belonged together. Lucius would never have admitted it before, but after working with her for so long and seeing her full potential, it amazed him how exceedingly different she was from the nosey little Gryffindor he always pegged her as. She could be a Slytherin herself. She was now confident and strong, and smart and cunning. He could tell that she would go to any means to get what she wanted; the last few months were proof. She'd learned more about the dark arts in this short amount of time than had many of the Death Eaters Lucius used to know. She belonged here. She belonged in this family.

"I've never given you the respect or the honor that you deserve. But I won't apologize for it. It's made you spiteful. It's made you stronger. And it's made you into the witch that stands before me. You're a powerful force of darkness, Hermione Granger, and I pity the Mudblood that has to go up against you."

Hermione was a bit taken aback. She wasn't very sure how to take his statement. It was sort of an insult, but also a commendation. She glanced at Draco, who was giving her the same proud look she'd given him before, and she knew this was meant only as a compliment from Lucius. She smirked, and nodded a thank you to Lucius.

He stepped back to admire his power-couple. The time had finally come. "The two of you – are ready to reign." He looked to Draco. "The Dark Lord." He turned to Hermione. "And his Mistress."

With a proud smile to both of them, Lucius left the two to think about their destinies. After a few moments of relishing in Lucius's kind words, Hermione and Draco turned to each other and grinned. They had made it. They'd finally made it.

Draco pulled Hermione in for a hug and kiss. When she pulled back and crossed the room for her water, Draco stared thoughtfully after her. This was the time. If he was going to do it, he'd better do it now. He might not get the chance otherwise.

He followed her, and picked up his own bottle of water. "Now that we're alone, I need to talk to you about something." Draco sat down his wand and jumped to sit on the table in front of her.

"Okay, shoot." Hermione wiped the sweat form her face with a hand towel and reached for a bottle of water.

Draco took her free hand in both of his. He rubbed the back with his thumb. His heart was racing with anticipation. "Hermione…" he took a deep breath and looked into her anxious eyes, trying his hardest to let his emotions convey what he was afraid to say, "I want you to marry me."

Hermione's chin physically dropped; but quickly recovered and snapped her mouth shut. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't even sure she'd heard correctly. Did he really just ask her to _marry_ him? Where did it come from? Was he serious? What was she supposed to say?

"Hermione?" Draco nervously prompted her to speak. He didn't really know what to do. She didn't look well. She was obviously shocked, but he couldn't tell whether she was happy or appalled by the proposal. Did he say the wrong thing? Should he have kept his mouth shut? No, it didn't matter. It didn't matter what she said, because either way, he needed her to know. He wouldn't take it back now.

"I'm sorry – I just – what?"

"You heard what I said. I asked you to marry me. Now what's your answer?"

"Actually, you didn't ask me. You told me you wanted me to."

"Okay. What's you answer?"

"I – I don't – " she uncharacteristically stuttered. She still didn't know how she felt about this.

"Well?"

"Can you just give me a minute here?"

Draco sighed, flustered. He was so nervous; he didn't know how to handle it.

Hermione tried so desperately to wrap her head around this. It was so out of the blue; she didn't understand his reasons for doing it. She knew they were getting closer and closer by the day, but she never saw this coming. "Why spring this on my so suddenly?"

"Because people die in these wars, Hermione. You know that as well as I do. And I just can't risk losing you without you knowing how I feel."

"And how is that?"

"I think you know."

"I think I want to hear it anyway."

He took a deep breath. "I love you."

She smiled, tears swelling behind her eyes. "Is that true?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "And so you think that's reason enough to get married?"

"You heard what my father said. I am the new Dark Lord. But I don't want to call you my Mistress. I want to call you my Queen. I want to call you my wife."

"It doesn't make any sense, though, does it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"We've both been through a lot, and maybe we're just – just lonely."

"Lonely?"

"I don't know. I'm just trying to make sense of this. It's all so fast."

"It's been a year and a half since we first…well, you know. I fell in love with you a long time ago, Hermione. If you ask me, we've waited far too long."

"Too long? We – "

"Belong together." He finished her sentence matter-of-factly and looked pleadingly into her eyes.

"Look, Draco, it's not like we're some epic romance."

"Oh really? You don't think so? Because I think that's exactly what we are. We're two people who are so different but clearly belong together. We love each other, but neither one of us is brave enough to admit it. Nevertheless, we both know that we'll never feel this way with anybody else, and that we're destined to love each other. We're never in the same place at the same time, Hermione. Only you and I could go through losing our best friends, losing each other, and trying to take over the world of magic, and make it out in one piece. I think we're the very definition of epic."

"Draco, I – "

"Hermione, you can stand here all day thinking of reasons why we shouldn't get married, but the truth is, you're not going to find a good one."

Hermione sighed. He was right. She could think of excuse after excuse, but she'd never find one that he would accept. They _were_ meant to be together. She'd known it for a while. She just didn't know that he did. She should have seen it – that Draco Malfoy, no matter how grown-up or changed he may be, would never spend so much time with Hermione Granger if he didn't truly care about her. Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. She couldn't hold back the tears. With a broken voice, she managed to get out the words they both needed to hear. "Okay. I'll marry you."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**May 30, 2006**

"Are you ready?

Hermione looked over her shoulder and caught the attention of a group of wizards standing at the opposite end of the field. They were eyeing her suspiciously. She quickly moved her eyes back to her nervous hands. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Draco wrapped his arm around her waist. "No matter what happens, I love you."

She was too afraid to even look at him, so she only nodded her head. "We're going to be okay. We're going to be married."

Draco lifted her chin upwards, so she had no choice but to look at him. She smiled in agreement. "Yes. We are." He gave her a soft, longing kiss on the lips, and released his grip. Meeting the eyes of his father, he nodded, giving him the signal that he was ready. He surveyed his surroundings, waiting for the other Death Eaters to get the confirmation from Lucius. He was standing in a field at the annual Quidditch World Cup. All around him, friends and families were cooking out, flying brooms, playing, and having friendly disagreements over the skills of this year's opposing teams – Scotland and France. France was favored to win, but if everything went according to plan, there would be no winners today. Draco took Hermione's hand, to keep her from bouncing so nervously. He felt her relax under his touch, and smiled to himself. When this was all over, they would be husband and wife. They just had to make it through today's attack alive.

Satisfied with having his team's attention, Draco gave Hermione's hand a squeeze and pulled his wand from his pocket. He took a deep breath and pointed the wand to the sky. "Atmos Combustus!"

Shrieks were heard from all around the stadium grounds as the sky erupted with a loud crack of thunder. The clouds turned black and covered the previously blue afternoon sky. Having the cover of near darkness, the Death Eaters fanned out and began attacking. The plan was to go after those of muggle descent and political figures; they would leave the pureblood commoners to try and persuade them over to their side. They moved like the crackling lightning overhead, through tents and masses of people, going for the places they'd mapped out a month before.

Hermione and Draco were focusing on burning tents and trees, while the others focused on the attacks – which Hermione was very grateful for. She wasn't sure if she was ready to kill or not, though she had assured Draco the night before that she was.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_It took forever for me to convince Draco that I was ready for this. I wasn't absolutely sure that I was; but after several months of training, he was more than ready. And I wasn't about to admit I wasn't to someone who was. So, I lied to him, to get the attack over and done with. I couldn't stand the waiting any longer. I just wanted it to be over so that Draco and I could start our life together. I wasn't sure about much – my power, my sanity, my health – but I was one hundred percent sure about us. Draco and I were meant to be._

_So that's what I clung to as we fought our way through the battlegrounds of the Quidditch World Cup. I never did like Quidditch very much, and I took great pleasure in burning down the home team's goalposts that day. But I took the most pleasure in knowing that I had Draco's hand in mine the whole time. The last time we'd been in a battle, we were against each other. But this time, we were fighting _for_ each other. For our freedom to be together._

_I didn't kill that day, and neither did Draco. I guess that's one of the perks of being who we were – other people did the dirty work, and we got all the credit. I don't know how many good wizards died that day. I know that three Death Eaters were lost in the battle, and they were no one I was particularly fond of. I was just relieved that Draco and I made it out alive. It was the most exhilarating feeling when it was all over. I remember very clearly standing on top of a hill, in the middle of all the wreckage, dirty and scratched, wind blowing my hair askew, with my free hand in Draco's. I was only vaguely aware of all the death and destruction around us as Draco kissed me triumphantly. He pulled away and stared at me with his brilliant silver eyes. I knew then that we were on top of the world. Two years after thinking our lives were over, we were unstoppable._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Alrighty, time to send me a review and let me know what you think! It really helps motivate me to write – I swear it does! Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

So this chapter is a little longer than my last couple, but it's way shorter than I originally intended. I ended up having to split things up, because I kept thinking of things to put in this one. Anyway, here's chapter 6! I hope you enjoy!

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**June 7, 2006**

"All right, Hermione, what do you think about these?" Narcissa laid three colored swatches in front of Hermione. One was off white, another sage green, and the last a dark evergreen.

Hermione smiled politely. "They're nice, but I was thinking maybe we should stay away from this particular color palette." She noticed that confusion on Narcissa's face. "It's just that everything in this house is so green already. It would be nice to incorporate something a little different."

Narcissa looked absolutely scandalized. "Dear, I hope you're not suggesting _Gryffindor_ colors?"

"No, no! Of course not. But I was thinking we could try some pinks. Maybe rose, or mauve. Or perhaps a dark purple?"

"Good morning," Draco entered the kitchen early Sunday morning, kissing first Hermione, then his mother on top of the head, and reached between them for an apple. "What's all this?" He picked up a magazine from the pile of many covering the kitchen table and flipped through it one-handed.

"Just wedding details, Love. You probably wouldn't be interested." Narcissa took the magazine from him and tenderly pat his hand.

"Actually, I'd like to help. I want Hermione to have everything she wants," he squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture with a smile, "but it's my wedding, too, right?"

Narcissa was genuinely surprised. She never pegged her son to take an interest in a wedding – even if it was his. She thought he'd be just like Lucius and take the "just tell me what time to be there" approach to marriage. It just went to show that Draco was full of surprises. "Well, all right then. Hermione, what do you think? Are you willing to let your future husband help plan the wedding?" she teased.

Hermione grinned at the prospect of "future husband" and squeezed Draco's hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Draco winked at her and bent down for a kiss. It was too short a time before he felt his father tugging at his shoulder. "Come along, Draco. There will be plenty of time for kissing your fiancée later. Right now I need to speak with you."

Draco groaned, but allowed the interruption. "But Father, we're starting on wedding plans today."

Lucius looked to the table as if just noticing the pile of bridal magazines and color swatches. "Oh, Draco, let the women handle the details. All you need to worry about is showing up dressed, on time, and sober."

"Emphasis on the sober part, right Dear?" Narcissa glared at Lucius, who smirked in return.

"You forgave me eventually."

"Dad, you were drunk on your wedding day?" Draco looked appalled, but found it amusing at the same time.

"Stoned, actually." Narcissa raised her eyebrows and turned away from him bitterly.

"Dad!"

"Oh, it was the sixties. Everyone was stoned all the time." He waved a dismissive hand and grabbed Draco by the arm, urging him along. Once in the privacy of his study, Lucius pulled out a letter and handed it to Draco.

"What's this?"

"It's what we've been waiting for. Our little ambush put the Order of the Phoenix on the rise. And they're forming under Harry Potter! The plan is working perfectly." Lucius beamed at Draco, anxiously awaiting his response, which was less enthusiastic than he'd hoped.

"How long until they're organized?"

"I would think months, at least. They're starting from scratch."

Draco nodded, processing the information. "When do we initiate an attack?"

"When we get word that they're fully formed, of course."

"What? That's suicide! If we take them out now, we'll have a much better chance of survival."

"But it won't be as much of an upset. It will be much more devastating for them if we defeat them while at their strongest."

"Yes, but at what cost to us?" The only thing he could think of was the possibility of losing Hermione.

"Draco, we'll have the advantage, even if they are strong. We've got Granger, now. She knows how they work."

"She _knew_ how they work. She's pretty much forgotten everything about her old life. And even if she remembered, they weren't under Potter's direction before. Dumbledore was smart, but Potter's got war experience and ideas that would surprise even the brightest of wizards. I promise you, he'll form an army that nobody will want to go up against."

Lucius sighed. Draco was putting a damper on his good mood. "Son, you over-analyze everything. I notice you've picked that trait up from Hermione." He chuckled and pat Draco's back encouragingly. "Just wait a little while and all the pieces will fall into place, okay? Plus, it will give us time to prepare and replenish our potions."

Draco smiled ruefully. "Okay. I'm not crazy about this, but I guess waiting is probably the best solution. At least it will mean one big war as opposed to bunch of little ones to worry about."

Lucius smiled. "That's my boy. What do you say we go get some breakfast?"

"Sure." He followed Lucius out into the hallway. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Who else knows about this?"

"Just us and the little birdie who sent me that letter. I wanted you to be the first to hear the good news. Shall we tell you mother and Hermione?" he made a movement towards the kitchen.

"No! I'd rather Hermione didn't know just yet."

Lucius furrowed his brow.

"It's just that she's so excited about the wedding and all. I don't want her to have to worry about this any longer than she has to."

Lucius nodded understandingly. "Of course."

Draco sighed in relief as Lucius disappeared inside the kitchen. It didn't feel right lying to Hermione, especially after she'd been so accepting of all his other flaws and secrets. But he just couldn't bear to give her something to worry about. She'd been so happy about their triumph at the World Cup and their upcoming wedding, she hadn't taken a drink in weeks. He didn't even think she noticed the time that had passed, but he had. He'd relished it. And he didn't want to drive her back to drinking any sooner than necessary.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_Draco was hiding something from me. I could feel it. I was getting much better at reading his face and picking up on his attitude that I could tell when something was wrong. He didn't seem entirely bothered by it. The biggest change of behavior was that he was spending a lot of time with Lucius in the basement. I thought it was strange, because we'd done what we planned. We attacked, we came out on top, and I thought it was done with. I wasn't stupid. I knew there would be a counter-attack at some point; but nobody knew it was us, and it would takes several months or more for another party to organize themselves. I thought we had plenty of time before we needed to worry about it. Draco told me that nothing was wrong (lie) and that he would let me know if something were (another lie). He wanted me to focus on the wedding plans for now, and we'd worry about taking over the world later. Nice, priorities, huh?_

_Because I trusted him, and because I loved him, I let it go at that. Narcissa and I had the bulk of the wedding planning to ourselves. Draco put in his two cents where he thought appropriate – mostly about the food (he wouldn't go for the halibut Narcissa suggested – I can't say that I blamed him). We set a date for September. Draco looked somewhat uneasy when we made the decision, and I couldn't understand why. Maybe he just didn't like the date. He never told me, but he agreed. _

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**June 20, 2006**

"Neville's agreed." Ginny Potter folded the letter that just arrived in the post, and wrote a check beside Neville Longbottom's name.

"We knew he would."

"Yes, but it's comforting to know for sure." She consulted her list. "That just leaves Dean, Seamus, and Lavender left to respond from Gryffindor. What about Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?"

"I'm still waiting for over half of each."

"Is there any point in asking any Slytherins?"

Harry Potter raised his eyebrows sarcastically at his wife.

"Right."

"Any word from Chris at work?"

"He's still in bad shape from the attack at the World Cup. But we owe him big for tipping us off. I just wish he'd seen who the Death Eaters were."

"I'll bet it was Malfoy."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Ginny looked back to the stack of papers. "How's your work list coming?"

Harry sighed. "Ten responses so far. Only six said yes."

"Only six?"

"Apparently, even after five years, my word means very little to the Ministry of Magic."

Ginny stood from her chair and approached her husband from the back, rubbing his shoulders. "People just don't want to believe it's all happening again. It's nothing to do with you at all."

"I guess. I just can't help but take it personally. Plus, all the others who believed me the last time are gone now."

Ginny hugged him and rested her head against his broad back. "I know it's hard. But we're going to be okay. We're going to beat them again."

"Look, Gin. I've been thinking." He held her hands in his and twisted her wedding band round her finger absentmindedly. "I know we talked about this briefly before, but I still think we should owl Hermione about this."

Ginny pulled her hands away to cross them over her chest, stubbornly. "No."

"Sweetheart, you know she's good with magic, and she's our – "

"_Don't_ say the word friend. She is _not_ my friend."

Harry sighed. "But she used to be. Don't you miss that?"

"Do I miss Hermione Granger, my best friend from school? Yes. Do I miss Hermione I'm-Fucking-Malfoy who let my brother die? Not at all."

Harry sucked in a big breath of air. It wasn't Hermione who let Ron die. It was him. But Ginny just wouldn't believe it, no matter how many times he told her. "Gin, you know it wasn't her fault. She loved him, too. And I highly doubt she's with Malfoy anymore."

"I'll bet she's in on the whole thing."

"Ginny, you know she would never do that."

Ginny sighed. Yeah, she knew. But it was so hard to see Hermione as anything other than a traitor now. She knew Harry was right; that she'd probably had plenty of time to change. But the question was whether or not she ever would. If there was one person in the world more spiteful than Ginny Potter (née Weasley), it was Hermione Granger; and they both knew it. "Fine. But she's still not getting in on this, just in case she's still with Malfoy." Ginny made a disgusted face. "She's a higher risk than she is an asset."

"She's not with Malfoy."

"And just how do you know?" Ginny raised a suspicious eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't start this again. You know I went to see her. I told you everything that happened."

She sighed. "I know. I guess I'm just a little weird these days."

Harry chuckled. "It's the hormones. We'll get used to it."

"Will we?" She laughed; it was unlikely they'd ever get used to an overly emotional redhead. "We sure have rotten timing, huh?" She laid her hands gingerly upon Harry's, which were wrapped around her waist and resting on her soft stomach.

"Rotten timing or not, things happen for a reason. And this is one I'm excited to figure out." He kissed her on the cheek. "Hey, do you think we'll feel it kick?"

Ginny giggled. "Harry, I'm only four weeks along. It's barely even big enough to be called a baby yet. It will be a long time before it starts kicking."

He sighed wistfully. "I know. I'm just excited to see what kind of monster we've made."

Ginny threw her hand behind her, smacking his shoulder. "I don't think calling our baby a monster will help his or her self-esteem."

"Who needs self-esteem? When it's got the most amazing mother in the world?"

Ginny smiled. "And let's not forget its father."

"Moi. The Chosen One." Harry playfully praised himself.

"Well I was going to say Patrick Dempsey." She shrugged. "But I guess you'll do."

"Ha, ha. You're funny."

"Why not? It's not like the baby would know the difference anyway. In true Weasley fashion, I'm sure it will have red hair and freckles."

"Beautiful like its mother."

She smiled. "And tough like its daddy. Hey, maybe our kid will end up saving the world one day. What number are you on now, three?"

"Something like that. I stopped counting. But let's try and make this one the last time, shall we? I'm getting too old for this."

Ginny laughed. "Agreed. Let's get back to work on these plans, Old Man."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**June 30, 2006**

Hermione hid behind a newspaper stand when she noticed Harry and Ginny Potter, now a clearly happily married couple, window-shopping in Diagon Alley. She couldn't help her curiosity, and peeked over a stack of papers to examine them. Harry looked much the same, his curly black hair was unruly as ever, and his warm weather t-shirt showed off the prominent scars on his arms that he'd received in battle. Ginny had changed since their last meeting. She had been sixteen then, and since had matured and looked more developed as a woman. Her ginger hair was much shorter, cropped at her shoulders, with feathery bangs skimming her eyelashes. Her skin was still pale in the summer sun, but had a shimmery glow to it that made her freckles less visible.

They were looking at a home furnishings store, pointing at the various displays in the window. Hermione smiled at how happy they were, but felt guilty. They clearly had no idea of the extent of the attack at the World Cup. She watched as Harry lifted Ginny's hand and kissed it where her rings lay. Hermione examined her own engagement ring. Her diamond was quite larger that Ginny's, and she felt a hint of smug pride. She smirked to herself and brought her attention back to the couple, to see that it was about to become a threesome.

"Gin Bucket!" A short, young, scruffy man that Hermione didn't recognize approached them.

Ginny rolled her eyes and spoke to Harry quietly. "If he calls me that one more time…"

Harry chuckled. He was obviously amused by the name. Hermione had to admit it; she wished she'd thought of it first. Though, back in those days, she didn't know what a gin bucket was.

"Hello, Randall," she greeted stiffly.

The man shook both their hands and exchanged pleasantries. Hermione had to move closer, behind a table with its umbrella down, to hear the conversation.

"Shelley told me about the news. Congratulations!" He offered Ginny a hug, which she accepted begrudgingly.

_News? What news?_ Hermione nosily stretched her ear closer to the trio.

"Thanks, Randall."

"How many times have I asked you to call me Randy?" he scolded.

Ginny pursed her lips irritably. "How many times have I asked you _not_ to call me Gin Bucket?"

Randall laughed and touched her shoulder playfully, "Oh, you!" He encouraged Harry to join in, who did so very cautiously, in wake of his wife's annoyed expression.

"Its hard to believe you two were just married a year ago, and now you're expecting."

"Yes, it is quite miraculous." Harry hugged Ginny lovingly.

_Hold on!_ Hermione drew back from the conversations as if just receiving a blow. _Ginny's pregnant?_

"When are you due?"

"March First."

"Wow, so soon." Randall grinned and surveyed the couple with delight. "Well, Potters, it's been a nice chat, but I'd really better be off. I'll see you at work on Monday, Gin – ny." He looked as if he was going to use her nickname, but caught the warning stare Ginny had.

They both bid him goodbye and Harry took Ginny's hand to calm her down. "So, had he responded yet?" Harry asked, looking after him."

"No. I didn't owl him."

"Why not?"

"Because he calls me Gin Bucket!" Ginny whined.

_Oh please_, Hermione thought. She'd called Ginny much worse before. And this one was actually funny.

"Honey, we need all the help we can get. You know this is…" Harry's voice trailed off, and Hermione feared she had been discovered. She held her breath and waited for Harry to catch her spying on him, but he never did. She carefully peered around the umbrella to where Ginny and Harry had been, but there was now just a little boy walking along behind his parents and picking up stones. Hermione scanned the street, and saw that the two had continued on along the row of shops.

Hermione sighed in relief and walked rapidly in the other direction, deciding she had been creepy enough today, and it wasn't worth it to follow them. She did wonder what they needed help with. Could it be what she thought? Were they inducting new members into the Order of the Phoenix? That's really all it could possibly be. Hermione knew this would happen eventually, but it was really soon after the attack, and awful timing with Ginny pregnant. What were they thinking? She could be killed.

No, she _would _be killed.

Hermione hated it, and she tried not to think about it, but deep down she always knew that's where this would go. She didn't think Draco and Lucius had it in for Harry, but she knew Harry would get in the way. And the Death Eaters would kill him (and by association, Ginny.) _Well_, she thought, _at least they were preparing_.

But did Draco know about it? Of course he couldn't. He would have told Hermione.

_No_, Hermione admitted, _he wouldn't._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_Draco's inane need to protect me had really begun to piss me off. That's why he said he didn't tell me about Harry and the Order. He was protecting me. He thought I would rather spend my time worrying about the wedding and not a fight. What he really thought was that I couldn't take care of myself. It was true that I was becoming more dependent on him lately. More like him._

_The day I came home with blonde highlighted hair, I knew I had totally changed. I used to make fun of bottle-blondes, but I was just out for a walk in London one Saturday afternoon and walked past a beauty parlor. I don't know what came over me. I just got this crazy idea, walked into the shop with curly brown hair, and came out with almost completely blonde hair, that Elaine, my stylist, had blow-dried straight. I didn't even recognize myself. But I liked it. I looked like I fit in with this my family now. I was tall and blonde, I put on a show for the world, and tried to destroy it behind closed doors. I was a Malfoy by practice. And in a few short months, I would be by law._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**July 17, 2006**

"Mmm, I still can't get over your new look." Draco and Hermione lay in bed one morning. He wrapped his arms around her and sniffed her curly blond hair. It was so different and sophisticated, but still had that certain wild touch of Hermione. Draco was very shocked by the change, but quickly warmed up to it, as it brought out a more confident, frisky side of her that only he had ever seen before. Now she allowed the world to see her for whom she was underneath. She finally broke out of her shell and showed that she was comfortable with herself. She was really more a part of his family than Draco had ever dreamed she could be.

She smiled. Her face was so close to his that he felt the movement rather than saw it. "I thought it was too short?"

He shook his head, nuzzling into her neck. "I like it long, it's true." He ran his fingers through the shoulder-length locks. "But you look exquisite." He planted a few light kisses on her warm skin, and as he increased the intensity, she laughed and pulled away.

"Draco, stop." Her giggly voice was more encouraging than not. She felt him grin against her skin and she let him go on a little longer.

Draco pressed his scarcely clothed body into hers, slowly roaming his hand down her side, following the curve of her body. He let his hand rest behind her knee as he kissed her, and then pulled up to hook her leg around his hip.

That's where she drew the line. "Draco, really, we don't have time for this."

He huffed childishly and rolled away from her. As a general rule, she didn't deny him, but she was right. He had a lot to do today. He had to meet with Death Eaters to discuss strategy. The time was getting nearer, and they had to be prepared for battle at any time. Draco made it a point to never enter or leave bed angry, so he gave Hermione an especially tender kiss before shuffling out of bed and into the bathroom.

Hermione sighed in contentment and stretched out on the bed. She closed her eyes, still savoring the tingling feeling he left on her lips. She wished that everyone else could see this side of him. To everyone else, he was cold and hard, but with her he was entirely different. She used to wonder if he had always been this riddle wrapped in a mystery. But she had witnessed him change. His relationship had been everything but good with his father before. She remembered when she would visit his office late at night and listen to him complain about Lucius. Now, they were much closer. They rarely fought anymore, which boggled even Hermione's brilliant mind, and were even seen laughing and joking. They even spent time together outside of work. They would watch the news together, or play a game of Quidditch in the evenings. It was almost like they had a real father-son relationship. You know, except for the whole Dark Lord thing.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

After hours of meeting with Death Eaters, Hermione had just about had it. All some of them did was roll their eyes at what others had to say. Some stared at her like she was a piece of meat – one got caught licking his lips and found himself buried in the remains of a china cabinet, thanks to Draco. Others did nothing but whine.

"It's too dangerous."

"We don't have a chance."

"We're all going to be killed!"

"Enough!" Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She knew this was Draco's meeting, but he had far more patience for these pansies than she did. "If you all would stop bitching like little girls and just do what you're supposed to, then none of us would be killed!"

"Easy for you to say! You don't have to do anything, anyway, Mudblood!"

Gasps were heard around the table, as it was common knowledge that you didn't ever say that about Hermione. She'd barely processed it before Draco sent the brave little Death Eater flying into the stone wall. The man got up and staggered back to the table. He had murder in his eyes, though he and everyone else knew he wasn't brave enough to challenge Draco. Hermione, on the other hand, he would love to get his hands on. A couple others stood to back him up.

Draco took a few calming breaths. "Hermione why don't you go upstairs?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. The git was trying to pull that protection crap again. "Draco, I can handle myself."

"It's not for your protection, it's for theirs." they shared a silent conversation with their eyes and Hermione finally conceded. She shot an angry glance to the challengers and stomped out of the meeting room.

She paced around the house, trying to decide whom to be angry with. She thought Draco – because he made her leave, and it didn't set a good precedent in their relationship. The man telling the woman what to do – it made her veins burn with fury. She hoped he didn't think it was always going to be this way. But for all intents and purposes, he was technically her "boss." He was the Dark Lord, after all, and she was a Death Eater. Except that she was _the_ Death Eater. She should never be dismissed from a meeting. Ever.

She also really wanted to be mad at that stupid Death Eater. He was such an idiot; it made her mad to even think about it. She wished she had stayed – she'd love to see Draco rip him to shreds.

She started to give herself a headache, and stopped the pacing. Instead, she busied herself with straightening the already impeccable home décor, passing the hours until the meeting was over.

"Granger?"

Hermione hadn't even heard the floo network being used from the neighboring room, so the voice came as a shock, and caused her to drop a crystal vase on the marble floor of the dining room. She looked up at the intruder, known formerly as Draco's friend and her foe. But what was he to them now? He hadn't been at the meeting, or any of them, in fact. Which suddenly made Hermione wonder why. She couldn't do anything but stare.

"My God, it is you!" He stormed closer to her, drawing his wand. She acted on instinct, and drew hers much faster. "What are you doing here? Where's Malfoy?" Blaise Zabini pointed his wand directly at her chest, demanding an answer and ignoring the fact that she had a wand on him as well. Surely she couldn't out-duel him, anyway.

"Did I hear my name?" Malfoy waltzed into the room with a meeting portfolio in hand and stopped as he took sight of the situation. His friend and his fiancée were standing within a few meters of each other, both held at wand-point by the other. What the hell had he missed?

Hermione relaxed and lowered her wand as Draco entered the room. The only reason she even had it out in the first place was to protect herself. With Draco here, she wouldn't need that. It was funny, she thought, how her survival instinct had improved so much and yet she was still able to allow someone else to care for her.

"What's going on?" Draco approached them with curiosity.

Blaise looked surprised when Hermione lowered her wand, but kept his up. He glanced quickly at Draco, trying to assess him for injuries and keep his focus on Hermione at the same time. "Everything all right, mate?"

Draco looked around the room, pretending to survey the scene. "Actually, no, Blaise. It seems you and Miss Granger are in a rather unfortunate position." Draco crossed his arms and shot Hermione a quick glance of amusement. He was going to humor himself and torture Blaise just a little bit before explaining.

"You say the word, Draco." Blaise looked at Hermione's confused face, ready to curse her.

Draco gave Hermione an appraising look, trying to make it look like he was considering giving Blaise the kill orders. Instead, he laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco's childish game and put her wand away in her pocket. "You can put your wand down, Zabini." She went back to decorating the dining room, picking the pieces of glass up by hand.

Draco rolled his eyes at her lack of humor. "For goodness sake, Hermione." He pulled her wand from her back pocket and cleaned the mess up magically.

"I could have done that."

"Then why didn't you?'

"Because sometimes I like doing things the muggle way."

He looked amused. "Getting back to our roots, are we?"

"No, it's relaxing!"

"Um – excuse me!" Blaise looked absolutely dumbfounded. "Could somebody please explain to me what the bloody hell is going on here?"

Draco took a deep breath, pondering. "Let's see, where shall I start?"

"How about I ask the questions?"

"Okay, shoot."

"Alright, why is Granger blonde?"

Draco smirked. "Because she looks good that way."

Blaise looked at him like he was crazy. "Okay, why do you think she looks good that way and why are you two here together?"

Draco shrugged. "Because we're getting married."

Blaise's chin dropped, but quickly snapped back into place. "Okay, back up."

"To the 'why is Granger blonde' question?"

"No!" Blaise sighed in frustration. He eyed his friend angrily. Draco was toying with him, and he didn't like it. "Tell you what, why don't you just start at the beginning?"

"I don't know, mate, I've had a lot of new beginnings lately."

"Draco, would you just stop torturing him?" Hermione asked from across the room.

Blaise jumped in surprise. He hadn't realized he let her slip away from his line of sight.

"Oh, fine." Draco proceeded to tell Blaise all about the last couple years, conveniently leaving out the part about Hermione's drinking problem and his dark magic problem.

When a house elf brought the trio their third cup of tea, Blaise shook his head. "I never would have believed it, Malfoy."

Draco laughed shyly. "Nor would I. But here were are."

Blaise laughed. "Oh, if Salazar Slytherin could see us now. I married a muggle, and you're marrying a Mudblood."

Draco's eyes glazed over with anger. "Hey, watch it, Zabini."

"Its okay, Draco." Hermione interjected. "It's what he's always called me." She honestly didn't mind, just like she didn't mind so much when Draco called her that. It was different. Blaise didn't mean it as an insult so much right now.

"Sorry, mate." Blaise apologized to Draco. "I didn't think."

Draco was still a little stiff. "Its not me you have to apologize to."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco was being such a jerk. Sweet in defense of her, yes; but a jerk to his friend. "Draco."

"I'm sorry, Granger."

Hermione looked a bit surprised. Blaise Zabini had never apologized to her for anything. What was going on with these Slytherins? "It's – it's not a problem. Thank you, Blaise."

"Well, Blaise, I assume you didn't come here to hear about Hermione and I?" Draco prompted.

"You assume correctly." He sat his cup of tea on the coffee table, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I've heard some rumors, Draco."

Draco innocently raised his eyebrows with mock interest. He already knew where this was going. "Rumors? Of what sort?"

"Well," Blaise glanced at Hermione, not sure if he should carry on in front of her. What if she hadn't heard the same rumors?

"You can speak freely in front of Hermione, Blaise. I have no secrets from her."

He nodded his head. "But do you have any from me?"

Draco looked at his friend's dark eyes. They were somewhat accusing, but mostly just worried. Draco sighed. "More than likely, what you've heard is true."

"So you are building an army of Death Eaters?"

Draco didn't respond, and instead hid behind his cup of tea as he took a sip.

Blaise took this as confirmation. He raised his hands to his head as if to pull his hair, and hissed angrily. "Draco, what are you thinking?"

Draco remained calm, but with some difficulty. He felt the need to defend himself and his family, as well as his army. "It's not like last time."

"Is that so?" He asked mockingly.

"Yes! Last time was a joke! We weren't near ready, and because of it we failed."

"Don't give me a bloody history lesson, Draco, I was there! I remember how we failed. And I was there when you vowed to never do it again, do you remember? The night before the attack, we were both here in this house, avoiding our parents and the Dark Lord when you let your bloody guts spill. You never wanted this, Malfoy. And you were the only one of us to ever know that it wouldn't work."

Draco was seething with anger. Yes, he did remember that night. And he remembered what he said and how he'd meant it at the time. But things were different now. He did believe it could be done. He knew that this wasn't a failing mission. There was hope that wasn't there before. He knew what Dumbledore had always used as his biggest weapon. And now he was using it to his advantage as well. "I don't know what to tell you, mate."

Blaise breathed hard. He studied Draco's expression and eventually softened his own. "Look, Draco, you know you could have come to me."

Draco nodded. "You had a family. A muggle family. I didn't want you risking that. They'd have no idea how to defend themselves."

Blaise nodded understandingly. He felt much better knowing why Draco didn't offer him a place in his army. Though he wouldn't have accepted it, he had felt betrayed by his friend for not asking. "Hey, how did you know about my family, anyway?"

Draco smiled and shrugged. "My secretary at work saw the announcement in the London paper. She recognized you from an old picture I had in my office. How many kids do you have, by the way?"

"One. And one due in November."

"Wow. That's hard to believe. You're a father." Draco shook his head, and his mind looked far away from the moment.

Hermione sat silently watching the scene, and smiled at Draco. Did this mean he wouldn't mind being a dad? Hermione had never thought too much about children, and now was definitely not the time. But maybe, years down the road, they would want kids. She hadn't ever thought Draco for the nurturing type. Though he had surprised her in almost every other aspect, so why not?

"Yeah, it's definitely a life-changing experience." Blaise shook his head. "I can't believe it's been two years, mate. Too long."

Draco agreed. "Far too long."

Blaise looked at his watch. "Well, I'd better be heading home. They'll be wondering where I've gone."

Draco stood to hug Blaise. "You're welcome any time, Blaise. I'd love to meet your family."

"And I'd love for you to. I'll talk to Emmy." He shook Hermione's hand. "I'm sure you two would hit it off. You could talk about your weird muggle stuff together." He laughed.

Hermione and Draco joined in. "I'd like that."

"Well, goodbye, then. And you two be careful, all right?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Family life has made you soft, Zabini. We'll be fine. Don't worry yourself."

"You know it does no good to tell me that."

"Yeah, I know. You've always looked out for me."

"What can I say? You're like a little brother," he teased. "A white, blonde, little brother."

Draco playfully punched Zabini as he made for the fireplace. He waved goodbye as he said his address aloud and disappeared in a green flame.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I was nervous. There was a war coming on, and we weren't exactly ready for it. We could hold our own, sure; but I wasn't confident that we would win. I could have used some encouragement from Draco, but he was avoiding me. Since he kicked me out of the Death Eater meeting, we hadn't exactly gotten along. We were civil, of course – always putting on the perfect show. His parents didn't suspect that anything was wrong, nor did anyone else. But I knew something was different. I could feel myself slipping out of my constant happy place. The place where Draco and I lived happily ever after. It was slowly fading away. I started to feel pain again, from the rejection I was getting from him. He didn't outright say anything, and when I tried to confront him, he accused me of trying to pick a fight. It was so frustrating, but mostly just hurtful. I thought Draco and I had passed our days of fighting. We really hadn't fought near what the normal couple had by this stage of the relationship. But then, we weren't a normal couple at all. Normalcy came and went, but never the way I wanted it to. I wanted to go on dates, and make dinner for each other. That hardly ever happened with us. I couldn't remember ever being on an official date with Draco. Our kind of normalcy was fighting and ignoring each other, and then making up. Except this time we weren't even making up. And I had no idea why._

_With my feelings of rejection and loneliness, came the feeling of needing something more. I noticed it one day when I walked through the family room, a perfectly normal thing to do. This time, though, my eyes glanced to the corner of the room where the liquor cabinet stood. I remember standing there for an unknown amount of time, just staring at it. I wanted a drink. I wanted it bad. But something told me not to get it. Things weren't as bad as the last time I started drinking. Draco and I just quarreled a little bit, and ignored each other a lot. It wasn't like I had lost him. I had to remember that I wasn't a good person when I drank. I know I hurt him then. And I wouldn't do that anymore. No matter how much he hurt me. I just had to talk to him, and that would settle it._

_It didn't take long to find the source of his surliness. After a lot of prodding and irritating on my part, he handed over the real reason he was so distant. It was a letter, addressed to me; Harry Potter was asking me to join the Order of the Phoenix. Things changed in that moment. I realized the extent of what was going to happen. There really was a war approaching. There really was an enemy. And the enemy used to be my best friend. It was funny how my life had turned a complete three hundred sixty degrees in the last couple years. Well perhaps not funny – but ironic at the least. The severity of it all came crashing down around me. Draco had known this would happen if he gave me the letter. It's why he hid it from me for so long – the letter was dated for weeks earlier. It upset me to see his face when he handed it over. I knew that if I hadn't bothered him so much, he never would have. He would have just kept me in the dark indefinitely. And that upset me even more than the letter._

_I didn't know what to do about Harry's proposition. Of course I wasn't going to accept it, but I did feel the need to respond. I didn't want them thinking I had fallen off the face of the earth. Not that Ginny would care. I was sure she hadn't had a hand in my invitation. But even more, I didn't want them to know I was involved with the Dark Lord. _

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**July 28, 2006**

A hand on top of hers made Hermione splatter her inked quill on the parchment in front of her.

"Hey!"

"Put that down."

"What?"

"You can't write back to them."

"Of course I can, they're my – " it didn't feel right to call Harry and Ginny her friends, but they were something, right? I mean, they had written to her to ask her to join the Order of the Phoenix. Well, Harry had, at least. That had to mean something.

"Whatever you're going to say, you're wrong."

Hermione stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, but who are you to tell me if I'm right or wrong? You don't know what they meant by this letter."

"Nor do you, Hermione."

"I know they would never try to hurt me, so it's not a trap like you're thinking, Draco." She made a move for the quill again, but he snatched it away first. "Okay, seriously, this is getting annoying."

"I'm sorry. I know you miss having your friends, but – "

"I don't miss having them as friends. I've got you, and that's enough. But it's rude not to respond to their letter."

All the tensions that both of them had been feeling were finally surfacing. They could feel their frustrations spilling out.

"How can you be worried about being rude right now?" Draco threw the quill down on the floor, staining the beige carpet with ink. "You do realize, Hermione, that they are on the other side. We're _against_ them, do you understand that?" He lightly shook her shoulders for emphasis. "You can't help them. You can't respond to them, you can't see them; you can't help them without hurting us. They are our enemies."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Draco." She shook him off her, and turned for the liquor cabinet without thinking. She pulled out a bottle of rum and didn't make it as far as halfway unscrewing the lid.

"Stop." His voice was deadly. It was cold, and it was serious, and it chilled Hermione to the core.

She didn't take well to being told what to do, but there was something about the sound of his voice and the murderous look in his eyes that made her halt.

"Put it back."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. Put the bottle down."

She laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Hermione," Draco walked towards her slowly, locking his eyes on hers, "have you ever seen me look more serious?"

She swallowed. No, she hadn't. But it didn't matter. He was still telling her what to do, and that wasn't okay with her. "You don't own me."

"I understand that."

"Then you'll understand that you can't tell me what to do."

"When it comes to what's best for you, I can."

"Is this what it's always going to be like, Draco? Being married to you? I'm going to have to follow each and every one of your little orders?"

"Just this one."

"It doesn't even affect you."

"It most certainly does affect me."

"How so?" She challenged.

"Because you're beautiful, and you're healthy, and you're alive. And I want to keep you that way. But when you drink, that person goes out the window, and I wonder every time whether or not I'm ever going to see her again."

"But what does that have to do with _your_ life?"

"I love you, Hermione. You _are_ my life. And when you fuck up yours, you fuck up mine, too."

She glared at him for a long time, while he mimicked her expression. They seemed to be having a silent conversation – if not an argument. Finally, Hermione put the bottle back in the cabinet.

Draco tried not to show as much relief as he was feeling. "Thank you."

She smirked. "Fuck you."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I was so angry with Draco it was hard to think. My head pounded every time I saw him in the house, every time I thought about him or heard his voice talking to his parents or Death Eaters. For several days, we didn't speak. We didn't look at each other. We didn't acknowledge each other. We lived in complete silence. Every night when I went to bed, he would follow silently. So much for his "never go to bed angry" policy. We now went everywhere angry._

_I could tell our bad attitudes were rubbing off on Narcissa and Lucius. Dinner on the second night was especially uncomfortable. Everyone there knew we hadn't spoken for two days. Lucius tried to talk to Draco about work. Narcissa tried to talk to me about wedding plans. When all they got were a few "uhmms" of agreement, they gave up and started fighting with each other. Lucius argued the point of needing to be civil for professional purposes. Narcissa was only worried about our future marital circumstances. It turned into one big argument where Draco and I continued to meticulously ignore each other. _

_But when he stood up abruptly from the table, giving us all a look of disgust and showing us just how high the horse he rode was, I had finally had enough._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**August 3, 2006**

"What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Hermione asked, skeptically, as she followed Draco at a fast pace through the house.

"Just let it go."

"No, I won't. You've been in a pissy little mood for days now. And I'm sick of it."

He rounded on her in the first floor hallway, almost causing a collision. "_I_ have been in a pissy mood?"

"Yes! You have!"

"And you haven't? The last thing you said to me was "fuck you." Have you gotten over that feeling?" He asked skeptically.

"I was getting there, but I'm not so sure anymore." She crossed her arms defiantly.

"Well then, I guess we have nothing to talk about." He turned on his heel and stalked off.

"Fine!" She stood her ground, wanting to follow after him, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**August 8, 2006**

"Alright, I've had enough."

Draco and Hermione sat in the basement in wooden chairs, listening to Lucius lecture them. They both had their arms folded across their chests, and their legs crossed away from each other. Lucius stood in front of both chairs with his hands on his hips.

"This is not the way to run a business."

Narcissa cleared her throat from across the room where she was watching carefully.

"Or a marriage."

"We're not married." Draco said bitterly.

"And if you don't watch it we're not going to be." Hermione countered.

"Do you not want to get married?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then why don't you try saying what you do mean?"

"Stop!" Lucius interrupted their argument. "You two are acting like children. Either grow up and get with the program, or I'll replace you both."

Draco smirked. "You can't replace me, Father. I'm the Dark Lord."

"Oh please." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Convenient how you always play that card."

"Can it, _Granger_,"

"Or what, _Malfoy_?"

"Enough!" Lucius was seething. Never in his life had he dealt with something so stupid. These two may be his most prized players, but they were getting on his last nerve. "Talk. Fight. Screw. I don't care. Just get over this, quickly. We don't have time for you two to bitch and bicker any more. We have work to do. So get it done, or answer to me."

Draco snorted. And Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Scratch that. _You_ will deal with your mother."

He looked to his mother across the room. She raised one perfectly arched blonde eyebrow, daring him to show her the same disrespect. Draco knew better than that. She would cook his goose for disrespecting a woman. In any way, shape, or form.

"All right, then. Narcissa and I are going upstairs. I expect at least one of you to be alive when we return." He narrowed his eyes threateningly at them both; and he hooked his arm with his wife's as they climbed the stairs out of the dim basement.

For minutes, they sat in silence. They each opened their mouths several times to say something, but always thought better of it. Finally, Draco had enough.

"Why do you always do that?"

She didn't understand exactly what he was referring to. "Do what?"

"You know what! Why do you pretend that everything is okay and then Bam! Suddenly it's not?" He stood over her, gesturing wildly. He had finally snapped.

She stood up to try her best to match his height, no matter how much of a failed attempt it was. "I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps you could enlighten me a little"

"You go for weeks, months even, and pretend like you're happy. You say you like being with me and my family. You color your hair, you act the part of a Malfoy, and you plan a wedding. But the second you get a letter from an old friend you fall apart! You go back to being the old Hermione Granger. You avoid me, you yell at me – what's the deal?"

Hermione seethed. "The deal is that you don't own me, Draco Malfoy! Even if I were to marry you, you wouldn't have claim over me."

"Even if you were? Does that mean you won't?"

"I would wish you'd stop putting words in my mouth, but it wouldn't do any good to expect so highly of you."

Draco bit his tongue to keep from blowing up completely at her.

"What's the matter, Princess?" she taunted. "Somebody make fun of your pretty dress?"

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. She was really pushing it. "You do understand that I could kill you."

She narrowed her eyes and matched his murderous expression. "And you realize I could do the same."

He smirked. "No you couldn't."

"I'm just as much a Death Eater as you!"

He actually laughed out loud. "Honey, I'm the source of all evil. You'll never be as good as me."

Hermione's stomach was flipping around wildly. She was feeling a hundred different emotions. She was hurt, and angry, and sad; and he was standing there smirking at her like he used to in school. It was like all the progress they'd made in the last two years had never happened. He was deceitful, and cruel, and not at all the person she thought he was. She felt extreme heartbreak, because she just knew it was over. They had fought nearly all their lives, and she now knew his fighting words well enough to know when something was wrong.

Something was definitely wrong.

If he had gone back to treating her like she was beneath him, it was all over. He wasn't the Draco she fell in love with anymore. He had changed, just like she was always afraid he would.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I blamed myself. If I hadn't been so stubborn, we would have been fine. If I'd just swallowed my pride and talked to him, maybe none of this would have happened. But, being me, I didn't do it. I acted just like him, if not worse, just to prove my point. Which was…hell, I don't even remember what it was anymore, or if I ever had one in the first place._

_I just remember wanting to get out of there, and never come back. It was strange how much could change in a few days. Suddenly, he didn't love me anymore. It was something I'd been so sure about for a long time. And it was all gone._

_I don't know how it happened, but the fight turned physical. I think I told him we could duel to see who was better; it could have been the cause. I didn't think he would really accept. But I had to remember – things had changed._

_It was the single most difficult duel I'd ever faced. After all, we were two of the very best wizards in the world. I didn't even hesitate to think about dueling with someone as powerful as the Dark Lord. I'd done it so many times it seemed natural. But the way he moved was far less than natural. He had been holding back on me before. And now he didn't care. He let loose every trick he had, and I kept with him every step of the way; I no longer cared, either. It was a strange relief to fight him, knowing one of us could be killed at any second; knowing one of us could win and the other could lose. I found that I wanted this. I wanted to fight. I wanted to prove myself. And the part where it gets really messed up? I didn't care if I had to kill him to do it._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

For what could have been hours, they stood face-to-face, arms length apart, with their wands poking into each other's necks. They looked fiercely and murderously into each other's eyes, each one daring the other to say the spell first. It was a tense moment, and Lucius Malfoy should have been glad he wasn't anywhere near the scene.

One of them was about to be killed. They both knew it. They didn't know who was going to muster up the courage to say it first, but one of them was about to die. If it were Draco who was sacrificed first, no doubt Hermione would be behind him shortly, as Lucius found out. And if it were Hermione, Draco would make sure he was in the wrong place at the wrong time of the war.

"Come on." Hermione spit the words through her teeth. She gave her wand a little jab. She wanted to provoke him. She didn't want to kill him, but she knew that if he didn't kill her first, she would wind up doing it. She couldn't live like this anymore. Everything was crashing down all at once. The letter from Harry, the war, the wedding, the lies, the secrets, the ceaseless fighting – it was too much. She didn't know how it got this out-of-control, how it went this far, and she wished it hadn't. But here they were; pissed off, licensed to kill, and somewhat willing to do it.

Draco's breathing sounded like that of a dragon. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he anticipated her attack. But hearing her words pissed him off even more. She wasn't going to do it. She was going to make him kill her first. He narrowed his eyes and returned the jab to the neck he'd just received. "Don't tempt me, Granger."

She was near tears as she grabbed his wand with her free hand and poked it further into her skin. She wanted this. She wanted to die. She wanted him to do it. She knew that death would come eventually. Harry Potter was building a strong army – one that they wouldn't defeat. She knew she was going to die. And if it had to happen, she'd rather it were at the hand of someone she loved. "Do it. I dare you."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Not a happy note to end on, I know. Sorry. You know what to do! Leave me a review, s'il vous plait! Merci!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** As always, I must apologize for not updating for three years or so. But I really like this chapter. It contains one of the first scenes I saw in my head when I thought up of this fic, and I'm very excited to see what you guys think about it. Thanks for reading!

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**August 8, 2006**

Draco was trembling. With fear or with rage – he wasn't sure. He had the perfect opportunity. Hermione was begging him to finish her off. And he could, so easily. He could do it.

If he didn't love her so much.

Her dark eyes glistened behind her desperate tears. A single drop of water left a streak on her face, and landed on the creamy skin of her hand, holding Draco's wand in place. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill this angel. She had saved him more than he ever deserved. He owed her his own life. And he would let her have it.

With a sigh, he lowered his wand. Hermione looked angrily at his softened expression, and grasped at his wand again. "Come on!" She yelled through choking tears.

"No. I can't do it."

"You can!" She jabbed her wand at him to provoke him. "Please."

Draco's heart broke from the sadness in her voice. What was he thinking? He could never kill her. He swatted her arm away from his neck and attacked her lips. He roughly grasped at her neck and waist and hardened the bruising kiss.

She resisted at first, but wasn't strong enough to fight him. She kissed him back, tasting the blood from his cut lip. She clawed at the torn fabric covering his body, leaving marks on the skin beneath.

Draco picked her up, never breaking contact, and she helpfully wrapped her thin legs around him. He carried her forward towards a workbench, slamming her into the wall above, and caused her to bump her head, for which he earned a hard slap across the face. It pissed him off, but also turned him on that much more. He growled and finished off her already ripped t-shirt.

The uncomfortable pull of the fabric startled her, and she let out a gasp. She narrowed her eyes at the man holding the scraps – that was her favorite shirt. Unwrapping her legs from his waist, she sat on the bench and kicked him hard in the chest. He stumbled backward, and she lunged at him, pinning him to the ground.

He fought against the girl straddled above him, but she wouldn't let him up. Her legs had a painful vice grip on his hips, and she sat all her weight on his lap, which he couldn't help but have a reaction to. He cursed himself when he saw her smirk – she had obviously figured it out. He had never seen her this way before – evil and angelic at the same time. He didn't know yet what she was going to do about the situation. Her expression confused him, but she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen. Her hair was always messy, but it was exceedingly so right now. Her face was tinted gray from the various explosions and burns in the duel, and she had cuts above her left eyebrow and on the side of her nose. Her neck held a red mark where he held his wand for so long; and her diamond heart necklace was crooked. Draco was genuinely surprised it survived. It was definitely worth what he paid for it. Her white bra was lopsided, and her breasts spilled over the tops of the cups, giving the illusion that they were larger. She had a scorch mark on her right side, making an 'X' with the scar she already had there, from the last big war she fought in. Her stomach was more toned than Draco realized. They hadn't been intimate since they'd been fighting, and her body had changed since then. He couldn't help himself; he lifted his right hand to brush his fingers across the new muscles.

She shivered from his touch, breaking her strong hold over him. Her breathing increased; she wanted nothing more than to make love to him right now, on the basement floor. But were they still fighting? It didn't feel like it. She was angrier than she'd been all night, and confused because this wasn't how she thought it would end. But she couldn't deny what she felt for him. She knew that she couldn't have killed him at all. Looking at him, feeling him, she didn't know what made her think she ever could.

Before she knew it had happened, she was pinned to the ground and Draco was attacking her neck with kisses and bites. She hated to think of the marks he would leave tomorrow. But then, she couldn't really think of much at the moment. Her head was spinning; her thoughts were a useless blur. All she knew at the moment was the overwhelming feeling of Draco's body moving with hers, perfectly in sync, just like always. Except this time it was harder, rougher, painful. And oh, so satisfying. "Ungh." Hermione made an indecipherable sound as Draco thrust into her. She looked at him with dilated eyes; they, too, were blurry. Everything around her looked cloudy – except for him. She could very clearly see the beads of sweat on his body, just as clearly as she could feel the dampness on her own skin. His hair was a dirty, wet mess, and a line of blood was dripping from somewhere underneath it, down his neck. She was worried, but could see that he wasn't. He ignored any pain he might be in at the moment. All that mattered was the two of them. Their actions portrayed their emotions. All the words they needed to say – angry and painful and loving and beautiful – were left kindly unspoken. It was better that way. The reactions they had to each other's bodies did all the talking.

Had it always felt like this? Neither one of them thought so. They had some great intimate moments before, but this was like nothing they'd ever experienced. It was almost out of this world. Hermione had to physically place her hand on the ground beneath her, just make sure she wasn't in the clouds. It felt like she was soaring through the sky at the speed of light. Every time Draco hit that certain spot she flew higher and higher, until she reached the point where oxygen ran out. She could no longer breathe. She was depending on Draco to keep her alive, and he did not disappoint.

He felt her approach the edge, and kissed her, shoving his tongue roughly into her mouth, tasting her blood and sweat. It was completely animalistic, and usually something he would never do, but it was hot. And he wanted her to enjoy this fall she was about to take. With a mischievous smile on his lips, he sped up and anchored her shoulder down so the force didn't move her too much, and brought her to her release.

It was the most surreal, otherworldly feeling she'd ever had, though she'd never felt so alive, so human. She didn't even realize it when he finished. She just opened her eyes to find herself cradled in his arms, drenched in sweat, and matching his rapid breathing. She looked over her shoulder to his battered body. Merlin, was he going to look awful in the morning. She bet she would look worse. She watched the rise and fall of his muscular chest for a while, lightly dusted with blond hair, until he caught sight of her. His eyes were appraising. She was hesitant. Surely he couldn't still be mad after all that. She wasn't. She doubted she could ever be angry with him again. Though if every fight they had from now on ended like that, she might go out of her way to find a reason to.

Her worried expression made him chuckle, and she relaxed at once, nuzzling her face into his chest. "You know, when I asked you to kill me, I didn't think you'd do it," she referred to the near dead feeling her body had at the moment.

He shrugged. "You're definitely going to be sore in the morning."

"So are you."

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully, "but not as bad. Have you checked out this bruise on your hip? It's shaped like Italy."

She twisted her body around, looking for the mark with interest. There it was – a large purple spot on her right hip. Hmm. It really did look like Italy turned upside-down. "Well that's interesting. How'd you do that?"

"I don't know. Probably when I slammed you into the wall." He grinned, remembering the powerful feeling of the moment.

"Speaking of," Hermione raised up to check behind his neck for injury, "where is this blood coming from?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and lifted a hand to feel the wet substance disappearing beneath his hairline. He touched a sensitive spot and winced. "My guess would be from the near concussion you gave me."

She bit her lip, thinking that maybe she did slam him against the concrete floor a little to hard. She was glad it didn't do any more permanent damage. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "I'm not."

She raised an eyebrow.

"It was well worth it," he explained, and kissed her softly this time.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**August 15, 2006**

"Here, you might want to learn this." Draco interrupted his search around the room to hand Hermione a paperback book.

She examined it curiously. _Introduction to Elementary Spanish: Level 1._ "Spanish? Why would I need to know Spanish?"

Draco shrugged, still searching. "Just thought you might want to know the native language of Mexico."

"Mexico?" She asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. So you can get a real feel for the place on our honeymoon."

Hermione eyes widened in excitement. Was he serious?

At her silence, Draco faced her, grinning brilliantly.

He _was_ serious! "We're going on a honeymoon?" She excitedly bit her lip. She hadn't thought they would get the chance to go on a honeymoon, what with imminent battle and all.

He chuckled. "Of course we're going on a honeymoon. That's the whole reason people get married in the first place, isn't it?"

She lightly smacked his shoulder, but widened her smile.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "I'm kidding." He touched his nose against hers and they closed their eyes.

"Good."

"Now kiss me," he whispered.

She obliged, kissing him softly and waiting, as usual, for him to speed it up. He didn't disappoint, and placed a hand on the back of her head.

Hermione's knees acted like they always did – they got weaker and weaker until he was the only thing holding her up. He pushed her backwards, onto the bed, and didn't waste and time trying to strip seductively. His shirt was unbuttoned and thrown across the room in four seconds flat, with his pants to follow shortly.

Hermione wasn't in the mood to make undressing an art, either. She ripped off a button trying to wiggle out of her shirt, and ungracefully tugged at her pants without unbuttoning them.

"Here, let me help with that." Draco laughed at her struggle, and unbuttoned the jeans and pulled them off in one swift motion. He didn't bother to stare at her beautiful body anymore. He didn't have to. He knew each curve and contour by heart. He could do this blindfolded – he had once, actually, at Hermione's request.

Hermione's giggle was drowned out by the knock at the door. They stopped moving abruptly, and stared at the door, hoping no one would just walk in. Their breathing was the only sound for a moment.

"Maybe if we're quiet, they'll go away." Draco's wish was not granted.

"Master Malfoy," the timid voice of a house elf called through the door, "your mother requests your presence in the conservatory."

He groaned as he rolled off the bed. He gave Hermione enough time to cover herself, and opened the door. He was aggravated, and wanted to shout at the creature, but the frightened look in her eyes caused him to sigh instead. Hermione's influence over him was so strong that he'd developed feelings for the house elves. It was times like these when that irritated him. "Thank you, Millie. I'll be right there."

The creature nodded and hurried down the hallway.

With another sigh, Draco sat on the end of the bed and pulled his pants on. Hermione crawled up behind him and planted butterfly kisses on his bare back. "I can't wait until we're married and have a place to ourselves."

Hermione drew back a bit. That was unexpected. "What? We're moving?"

He turned around to face the confusion in her voice. "Well, yeah. Don't you want to?"

She thought about it for a moment. That would be nice, but she hadn't really ever thought about it before.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking."

"Thinking…that you want to move or that you don't?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Of course it would be great to have the privacy, but can we, I mean, are we going to be able to still carry out the plan if we live somewhere else?"

Draco furrowed his brow. To be honest, he hadn't thought that part through. He'd only weighed the pros of moving out on their own, not the cons. It would make it significantly more difficult to be the Dark Lord away from the house. Everything he needed was here. His father, his mentor, was here. But he had been doing this for a while now. He could do it on his own. He thought.

"And this house is just so beautiful. And it's big, so we hardly ever have any interruptions. Well, I mean, except for now, anyway. But you have to admit that doesn't happen often. And maybe once we're married it won't happen at all."

Draco sighed. He knew there was more to this conversation. And he didn't want to discuss it right now. He felt a little stupid for not thinking of all the negatives himself, and having to hear them from Hermione. He thought she would want nothing more than to get out of this house. "We'll talk about it later. I'll go see what my mother wants." He kissed her softly on the lips and picked his shirt up from the floor on the way out.

Hermione lay back on the bed, wrapped in the silky bed linens. She stared at the designs on the ceiling, trying to make sense of the pattern, and thinking about the idea of moving out of the manor. In theory, it sounded great. They would have a whole house to themselves – no doubt it would be grand. Not as large or elaborate as Malfoy Manor, but still expensive and well furnished. They would have privacy. Tons and tons of privacy. They could do whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted. They could be like any normal married couple. Except that they really couldn't. As special as their bond and commitment to each other would be, they would still be the Dark Lord and his Queen – first and foremost, in the eyes of the dark wizarding world. And once the war ensued, the entire wizarding world would know. And that, frankly, scared her to death.

Malfoy Manor provided optimum protection. Draco would make sure their house would be safe, but it could never be as safe as the secluded, guarded house they currently resided in. It would leave them vulnerable to attack, and she didn't like that. She was confident that they could handle any and everything, but to put themselves out there for the taking seemed just stupid to her. They would be much safer here.

Plus, there was the issue of convenience. They had worked out of this house since the beginning. All their work was here. This was the headquarters for Death Eaters. She just didn't see how it was worth the trouble to try and move anything. And she didn't really want to. She didn't want Death Eaters in her own home if she could help it – especially if it didn't provide the protection this house did.

She sighed. She didn't know what to do. It was a big decision. Her wishes and her reason were pulling her two different directions. And it was pretty obvious which side Draco was leaning. It wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation, no matter how it turned out. She knew Draco wanted his independence, but he just wasn't thinking. She hated to have to do this, but she was going to have to be firm on this, and convince him to stay in the manor. Annoying and inconvenient as it may be, especially for their marriage, she didn't see any other way to work around it.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I was a little nervous to meet Blaise Zabini's wife. I'd heard nothing but good things about her; how beautiful she was, how great of a mother she was. I thought I was pretty – especially with my blonde hair – and I wasn't aiming to be a good mom any time soon, but I still couldn't help but be intimidated by this woman I'd never met. I'd heard him talk about her like she was a goddess. How was I supposed to live up to something like that? She was a muggle, which somewhat leveled the playing field, but I was afraid to be in her presence. Just imagine if she had been a pureblood witch!_

_Luckily, she turned out to be the sweetheart Blaise built her up to be. And just as beautiful as well. Draco finally got me calmed down enough to meet her. But when she stepped out of the fireplace with her raven black hair reflecting the green flames, I felt nervous all over again._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**August 27, 2006**

"I'd like you to meet my wife, Emmaline. Emmy, this is Draco and Hermione."

"Bonjour, Draco. Hermione." She shook their hands in turn.

Draco smiled. "Bonjour, Emmaline."

"M'appellez-vous Emmy, s'il vous plait."

"Emmy." He confirmed with a smile.

Hermione smiled warily. "Um...hola?"

The three looked at her curiously.

She swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I don't know much French. But I'm learning Spanish." She grinned hopefully, and Draco snickered.

"Spanish?" Blaise asked.

"Long story." Draco interjected. "Come, sit down." He ushered them into the family room, taking a seat next to Hermione on one of the couches, and inviting Blaise and Emmy to sit across from them. A house elf brought them all tea, and it caught Blaise's attention that Draco was very nice to her. He smiled to himself.

"So, Emmy, you're French?"

"Oui," she giggled. "I grew up in Paris with my parents. I lived there until I was fourteen, then they sent me to a boarding school in London. I was so angry with them at the time, but it ended up being the best thing to ever happen to me." She squeezed Blaise's hand and they shared an intimate glance.

"So you know all about…um, magic?" Hermione asked cautiously. She'd been told that Emmy did, and it only made sense for her to, seeing as her children would be wizards, but she still didn't feel comfortable bringing it up with someone who, theoretically, wasn't supposed to know.

"Oh, yes. I knew long before we were even engaged. Blaise told me all about it."

"Not willingly," he interjected. He knew he wasn't supposed to tell Muggles about magic, and didn't want it to sound like he ran his mouth to all of them.

"No, but you have to admit that it was pretty suspicious to get a bouquet of roses that never wilted."

He shrugged. "You loved them so much, I couldn't bear to let them die."

Hermione grinned, and looked at Draco. He was watching the couple with a similar, but slighter smile. She couldn't believe how much the two boys had changed. In school, they were always so mean and crude, to her and other muggle-borns as well. But here was Blaise, married to a completely non-magical woman, who had given him a child, and was about to give another; and then Draco, days away from marrying Hermione. It was hard to recognize they were the same boys from Hogwarts. But they were, and they had turned into wonderful men, whom Hermione was proud to know.

"So Hermione, you are like me, then? Born non-magical?"

"Yes, sort of. I was born to non-magical parents, but I suppose I've had my magic my whole life and just didn't really know it until I got my letter to Hogwarts."

"I can't wait until Cosmo gets his letter." Her bright eyes lit up with the thought.

Blaise chuckled. "Darling, that won't be for another ten years." It sounded like this was a recurring reminder.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hermione wondered why. He must have felt her gaze, for he looked at her, somewhat guiltily.

Ah, she understood. Because of their plans, it was likely that there wouldn't be a Hogwarts for Cosmo Zabini, or any other child, to go to. She adopted the same expression, and they looked to Blaise at the same time, his eyes wondering. In a moment, he nodded understandingly. He knew the same was true, but let the subject drop. He wouldn't discuss that right now. It's not something Emmy would easily understand.

"Blaise tells me you're engaged to be married. Congratulations!" Emmy flashed a stunning smile.

"Thank you." Hermione smiled excitedly at Draco. "It's less than two weeks away, now." She was allowing herself to finally be excited by the wedding. It was so close, now, that it actually felt real. It made her stomach flutter just to think about it.

"You're both invited, of course, as well as your son. It's just a small, family affair, but Blaise has been like family to me for years. I'd be delighted if you all could make it." Draco gave Emmy his charming smile. You know, the one that got him whatever he wanted.

Emmy looked a bit surprised by it. Hermione's lip twitched. She supposed Emmy did well handling her first encounter with Draco's dazzling smile.

"Oh, well, thank you, Draco. We'd be delighted."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. And in a way, it was. But I still felt sad. My family wasn't here. The Malfoys were, of course, and they had been more of a family to me than I ever thought they could be; but I still missed my mother and father. I wondered what things my mother would have said to me. How she would hold my hand and help with my hair. How she would glow with pride that her daughter was marrying one of the most beautiful men in the world. I wondered what my father would think of my dress. If he would think I looked too grown up in the thin silk, or just right. I imagined his watery brown eyes when he would tell me how pretty I was, and how much he loved me, and did I have to go? I would have to explain to him that there was another man who loved me, and that I loved him as well, and yes, I had to go, but that my father would always be a part of my life. We would hug and wipe our tears away, so that we were the only ones to ever see them. And then he would ask if I was ready, and then make a joke and ask if I was sure about this, that there was still time to get out; and at last, we would walk, arms linked, down the aisle where he would give me away to my future husband._

_But he wasn't there. He couldn't walk me down the aisle. He couldn't give me away. So I walked alone, to meet my husband._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 6, 2006**

Draco's breath caught in his throat. She was so beautiful. Her thin, toned body was draped in the most luxurious silk, thin and simple, and flaring out at the bottom. No beads, no ruffles – her curves underneath the fabric were all the embellishment it needed. Her blond hair hung in loose ringlets behind her shoulders. Her style was simple, her makeup even more so. She was wearing a pair of blue sapphire earrings. _Something blue. _The necklace he'd given her last Christmas was hanging above her tasteful cleavage. _Something old._ On her wrist was a silver bracelet of Narcissa's. _Something borrowed._ On her feet were the expensive heels she bought especially for the occasion. _Something new. _Draco about had a stroke when she told him how much they cost. Good thing she looked fabulous in them.

She looked fabulous in everything. Though Draco doubted she could look anything less than amazing walking down the aisle toward him. Her strut was confident, and eager. She was sure about this. So was he, though it didn't stop his hands from shaking involuntarily. With every step she took he got more and more anxious, worried to death that he was going to mess something up. But halfway down she winked at him, and from then on, every step slowed his fluttering heart; until she slipped her hand into his and it started back up again. Was it supposed to feel like this? Was he supposed to be this out of control?

Hermione was nothing but in control. For the first time in her life, this big decision didn't scare her. She was so sure about it that she didn't feel the slightest need to worry about messing up. Draco had seen her at her worst anyway, what did she have to hide from? Of course there were the other guests. His parents, Blaise and Emmy, and little Cosmo. No one else had been invited for the event. They didn't have any other friends. They only had each other. They only needed each other.

Forever.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 9, 2006**

"Ugh. What the hell is that wretched noise?" Draco emerged from their private cabana, covering his ears.

Hermione smiled into the sunlight, and took a sip from her virgin Pina Colada. "Jimmy Buffett."

"Jimmy who?" Draco lounged in the chair beside her, watching the bright blue-green water ripple into the shore in waves of white.

"Buffett. Isn't it relaxing?" She smiled brilliantly, and adjusted her sunglasses, closing her eyes to just listen to the sound of the beach.

"Hardly. It's bloody awful!" He tried his best to ignore the music, and instead listened for the sounds of Mexico. The hot breeze, the roaring ocean, and the calm breathing of his wife in the chair to his left, made him forget all about Jimmy Whats-his-face. Soon, he was asleep, dreaming of nothing but how amazing Hermione was – in and out of bed. Getting married was a great decision, he concluded. If he thought the blonde hair changed her, he hadn't seen anything until he brought her to Mexico as his wife. He should have done this a long time ago.

The Mexican beach was simply stunning. The sand was hot, the plants were lush and green, and their little hut was so secluded that Hermione had only gotten to use her Spanish skills once when the housekeeper walked in while they were in a rather compromising position. And even then, she'd been laughing too hard to get anything out correctly. She could have been speaking Japanese for all Draco knew.

And the nights were beautiful. The moon always cast a perfect light on the beach. On their second night, they'd taken a short, naked swim at midnight. And short it was – they were out of the water and horizontal on the beach before they even got their hair wet. Draco shivered in his sleep remembering the feel of the night air in contrast with Hermione's scorching skin. It brought him from his sleep and he realized it had gotten darker, and he was feeling the night air for real.

He looked around for Hermione, but she had left her place in the chair. He heard footsteps in the sand, and after squinting in the dark, made the figure out as Hermione. She was wearing the same suit and white cover-up dress as earlier, and was carrying something. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but it looked suspiciously like…

"Look what I've got!" Hermione held up a bottle of Jose Cuervo.

_Oh no._

"Tequila? Hermione, I don't think that's a good – "

"Ssh." She straddled Draco's lap and placed a finger over his lip. "Relax. Its just for fun."

"But Hermione, you've – "

"Gone overboard in the past? I know. But it's not like that anymore. I'm not like that anymore."

Draco knew this was a really bad idea. She hadn't drank in a very long time, and she seemed okay – except for that little stunt she tried to pull a while back – but he really didn't feel comfortable chancing it. He cared way too much about her. He'd decided to put his foot down on this one, but unfortunately, her lips did nothing for that resolve. He briefly wondered if she'd put a spell on her lips to make them so enticingly persuasive, but knew that even if she was magically capable of doing so, she wasn't so morally capable. Besides, this was nothing new to him – her lips had always held the power to get what she wanted from him.

Another moment of passionate kissing, and his mind had been changed.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I remember feeling simply disgusting the next morning. It was so bad that Draco had to take the rest of the bottle of tequila outside to pour it out. I don't think he minded very much. In fact, he seemed amused by the alcohol making me sick. He was quite smug for a few hours, walking around with that "I told you so" demeanor. If I could have moved off the bed, I'd have slapped the smirk right off this face._

_It wasn't easy to understand. I'd drank plenty of tequila before. Margaritas, shots, the whole shebang. I couldn't comprehend why it made me feel so bad all of a sudden. Draco thought it was because I hadn't had a drink in so long. I'd lost all the tolerance I built up for it. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was a bad idea to try and drink alcohol anymore. It obviously didn't make me feel good like it used to. And, though it was definitely fun for a few hours, the morning after was not something I'd like to ever repeat again. _

_I decided then that I was done with alcohol completely. It just didn't do anything for me anymore. It was vile and disgusting, and I was to have nothing to do with it ever again. I stuck by my resolve for the duration of the honeymoon, which unfortunately, was cut short._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 12, 2006**

"Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"

Hermione felt the earth shaking beneath her as she opened her eyes. No, it wasn't the earth. She was still lying in a stationary bed. Draco was the cause of the shaking. She assessed his alert eyes and alarmed expression, immediately arranging the features of her face to mirror his. "What's wrong?"

"My father's just sent us an owl. They anticipate an attack."

"From the Order?"

"Yes." He left her side, satisfied with her attention, and began to pack.

"When?" She sat up, becoming more alarmed by his haste in packing.

"Today." At her prolonged silence, he stopped his frantic movements to meet her worried eyes. They shared a short, silent conversation. "I know. It's too soon. But it's happening anyway. We have to go."

Hermione swallowed. "I'll call the airport."

"There's no time." He tossed her some clothes from a drawer as he crammed the remainder in a suitcase.

"But – "

"We're apparating."

"To _London_?"

"No, I thought we'd go to Japan instead," he sarcastically answered. "Yes, to London!" He threw a pair of socks at her chest, which she caught perfectly.

"We can't travel that far."

"I can."

She cocked an eyebrow, still watching him dart around the room. "And just how do you know how to do that?"

"Being the Dark Lord comes with a few extra perks."

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

He shrugged. "Need to know basis."

"And I don't need to know?" she demanded.

He sighed. "Can we not do this now, please?"

They shared another long stare, in which she gave up. "Fine." She dressed while he continued to pack.

"Well just what perks do I get, then?"

Draco immediately caught her lips in a long, hard kiss. He broke away, panting, and put her hand on his chest. "You get this. All of it. All of me." He stared into her eyes with conviction, trying to show her how much she meant to him, and that no matter what happened in this war, or how scared he was; he would always be there for her when it was over. "Is that enough?"

Her heart melted. Of course it was enough. She nodded her head and kissed him quickly but passionately, and kicked into battle mode, helping him get everything together. Minutes later, they were standing hand in hand, luggage piled awkwardly between them. They took one last look at the beautiful rising sun on the beach, painting a picture to remember forever, and apparated away.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

"They'll be here soon." Ginny Potter took her husband's hand reassuringly.

"I know."

"You're worried."

He looked her in the eye. "Yes. We don't know how many Death Eaters there are this time around. What if they're better off than we thought?"

"Then we'll fight harder."

He placed a hand on her small baby bump. "Ginny – "

"Don't start, Harry. I'm pregnant, not handicapped."

"I'm worried for you."

"Well don't be. I can take care of myself."

He rolled his eyes. Sometimes her stubbornness was cute. Sometimes it was down right annoying. "Fine, I'm worried for the baby, then."

"I can take care of the baby, too. You underestimate me, Potter." She winked flirtatiously.

He smiled. Yes, he did underestimate her quite frequently. He should know better. She was strong. At times, stronger than he was. He really should start to accept it. He lovingly tucked a piece of Ginny's red hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. He wanted to live in this moment forever – standing in a secluded spot in Diagon Alley with his wife – but the battle was inevitable. He knew it was coming. Fast.

He felt it first – the sudden whoosh of cold wind. Then he heard it – the shrill cries of innocent bystanders, and the dark laughs accompanying them. He let go of Ginny's hand and sprung into action. From the looks of things, the Death Eaters had entered from Knockturn Alley. Made sense.

What didn't make sense was that very few were wearing black cloaks. Most were dressed in normal clothing, and none had masks on. _Brave sons of bitches_, Harry thought. Maybe they weren't under the direction of the cowardly Malfoy after all.

Or maybe they were. Fifty yards away, Harry spotted the platinum blond head of Draco Malfoy. He was barking orders and dueling a new, young Order member – and he was winning. Harry cursed under his breath. He knew it was Malfoy. He should have killed him two years ago when he had the chance. Maybe he wouldn't be watching him kill others right now.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

It seemed like hours passed, though she knew it was only minutes. As Hermione dueled with a witch she didn't know, she kept a mental tab on Draco's location. She knew it was risky, and that he was more than capable of fending for himself, but she couldn't help it – her protective instincts took over. Besides, she knew he was doing the same thing for her.

"Stupify!" The dark-haired witch froze mid-movement and fell to the ground.

"Hey!" Hermione's head whipped around to the source of Draco's voice. "Don't forget which side you're on now. We can't afford to hold back!" he growled.

She narrowed her eyes, irritated by his orders. What he meant was "kill her." Hermione looked at the stiff body. It was still alive, and the girl was starting to come to. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. She knew he was right. They would never win this war if she didn't suck it up and use the Unforgivable Curses the way they were meant to be used. She pointed her wand to the face of the frightened witch, who still didn't have full mobility back. No reason to delay the inevitable. "Avada Kedavra!"

She said the words lightly, and as a result, the girl had time to feel pain and scream before the curse killed her. Hermione cringed. Next time she would mean it. If she was killing these people, the least she could do was make it as painless as possible for them.

"Stupify!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione had been paying attention to the dead body at her feet, and not to the battle around her. Stupid mistake. She'd almost been hit, but luckily a fellow Death Eater averted the spell. "Thank you, Theodore."

"Granger." He nodded, and went on his way to help in another duel. It didn't matter if she was married to Draco or not; she would still always be Granger to some people.

Hermione scanned the ground of Diagon Alley. She knew what her target was. She and Draco were to take out Harry and Ginny. The problem was, they were nowhere to be seen in the mass of people. She squinted her eyes, peering through the dust and blinding lights of curses flying back and forth. There, across the alley, was Harry. He was dueling someone, and seemed to be having a difficult time.

She searched around for Draco, dodging curses and throwing a few herself. She finally saw him, fighting hard against someone hidden behind a group of wizards. The men moved, and she saw that it was Harry he was dueling.

Hermione's heart jolted, seeing Harry and Draco duel. They'd both played such an important role in her life. It didn't seem right that they were battling each other. It didn't seem right that she had fought alongside them both, and now had to choose. But she had already chosen. She chose long ago. And she would stand by her choice.

She started over to help Draco, as she knew Harry was more than a worthy opponent, but was stopped by a mild curse to her abdomen. She crumpled over – weak as it was, it still hurt. She looked up into the eyes of a fellow Hogwarts student, who didn't appear to recognize her. She couldn't remember his name, either, but thought he'd been in Hufflepuff. "Sorry," she said. "Avada Kedavra!"

This time, her victim fell faster and didn't scream. She smiled in satisfaction. Twisted as it was, she was glad she hadn't hurt him.

"Impedimenta!"

_Oh, for crying out loud._ Hermione rolled her eyes at the young witch who just hit her in the leg with the curse. It wasn't strong, but strong enough to cause her leg to tingle as if asleep. "Avada Kedavra!"

That made three, now. Hermione was getting better and better at this. She really shouldn't have been proud of herself, but she couldn't help it. This was who she was now. She was a killer. There was no turning back. She would embrace it, and be good at it.

She focused again on her destination, limping forward. From thirty yards away, she could see Draco's face. He was sweating, and his expression was strained. Hermione feared he wouldn't last much longer. She'd gone up against Harry before for practice, and even then he was a force to be reckoned with. She had to stop once more to fight off another Order member, and when she turned around again, she met a sight that made her stomach drop, her chest clench in agony, and her blood run cold.

Draco was lying on the ground, face down. And he wasn't moving.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

A blood-curdling scream jolted Harry's stare from Draco Malfoy's limp body to the middle of the street. It was a female scream, and it made him hurt to hear the pain it held. Out of the dust, came the shadow of a thin girl, long curls bouncing as she sprinted over to where he was standing and Draco was lying. As the woman neared, he squinted his eyes, thinking they were deceiving him. It looked like…

"Hermione?"

She woman ignored the curses hitting her from every direction, from unknown sources; and she continued to stumble forward, but looked at him at the sound of her name. It was definitely her. Her hair was long, it was blonde, her waist was narrow, and her shoulders were muscular, but he recognized the high cheekbones, upturned nose and brown eyes.

What was she doing here? She had never responded to the letter he sent – which he was almost grateful for. If Ginny ever found out he invited her, the Dark Lord would be the least of his problems. He didn't know how she knew to be here today, but he was glad she was. They could use someone like her on their side. Especially since Malfoy was heading up the operation. Although he was on the ground right now, Harry knew it was only because Draco let his concentration slip for a moment, looking around the alley for something, it appeared.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you made it!" Harry started to approach Hermione, to meet her halfway, but she glared at him and veered off course. Right to Draco's side.

Harry watched, flabbergasted, as she ignored him and rolled Draco over, cradling his head in her arms and feeling him all over for wounds. "Draco? Draco, answer me." She shook him roughly. "Answer me damn it! Wake up!"

Harry felt lightheaded. Was he imagining this? He had to be, right? He knew Hermione was with Draco long ago, but he hadn't been building a dark wizard army back then; and she had broken it off, anyway. There was no way she was with him.

But she was. It was undeniable. She held him with care; spoke to him with desperation, pleading for him to come to, to be okay. She said she couldn't do this without him. She said she couldn't live without him. She begged for him to wake up, to give some sort of sign that he was alive. She checked his pulse over and over, and let a tear fall when she found none. She wiped it away with her left hand, and Harry noticed two rings – a diamond and a simple band. It matched the one on Draco's hand. That was the sign of truth. There was no casting this off as imagination. They were together. They were married. They were evil. And Harry had lost her forever.

He rubbed his eyes once more, just to make sure it wasn't an illusion. Nope. She slowly turned her head to Harry, hatred blazing in her dark eyes. "What have you done?" Her voice was thick with tears, but strong. She didn't take her eyes off Harry's as she raised her wand.

He didn't know what to do, but raised his out of instinct. "Hermione," he tried to reason. After all, it was Malfoy. He only did what he had to do to keep the world safe.

He watched her take a deep breath, and his surprise kept him frozen in shock, allowing her to do whatever she wanted to him.

"Crucio!"

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N:** Thanks for keeping up with this story and I'm sorry I'm a bad writer and don't post very often. But I'm trying to get better about it. Your reviews help with the motivation! =)


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter is up a LITTLE faster than usual. I was really into writing the first part of it. There's a little surprise in there-at least, I think it will surprise you. I don't know-maybe it's cliché and you all were expecting it. We'll see…**

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 12, 2006**

The words sounded foreign coming from her mouth, but he only had second to think about it. The next second, he was writhing in pain on the ground, trying to make sense of how he got there. The pain only lasted a few moments – Hermione was much kinder than the last Dark lord had been. Perhaps because she'd experienced that curse herself a time or two. Harry felt his body relax as his muscles stopped writing in pain. He kept his wand at the ready as he looked up. Hermione was gone, and so was Draco. Harry leapt to his feet. The alley was much clearer than before. The Death Eaters had retreated. All that was left were Order members – both dead and alive. He scanned the scene for the one person he needed to see.

Ginny was standing over the bodies of two Death Eaters, looking worn out and wind-blown. She raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Do you believe me about her now?"

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Hermione crashed into the ancient grandfather clock in the living room. Draco's heavy body fell onto hers, and pinned her to the broken glass.

"What on earth?" A house elf ran into the room to inspect the noise. "Mistress Malfoy."

"Millie, get a healer. Now!" Hermione tried to move Draco off of her, but she was so injured that she didn't have the strength. "Narcissa!" she yelled, as Millie snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Narcissa ran downstairs and looked at Hermione and Draco with her chin dropped. Hermione realized they must be quite the sight; beaten, scarred, covered in dirt and ashes, and lying in a pile of broken wood and glass, staining the light wood floor with blood.

"He isn't breathing." Hermione still struggled under Draco's weight, but Narcissa helped him off her.

"How long as he been under?" She tried to stay calm and checked her son's breathing and pulse.

With his pressure gone, Hermione felt her wounds for the first time. It hurt to even breathe. Tears spilled from her eyes as she spoke uncertainly. "A few minutes?"

"How many?" Narcissa snapped while beginning to thump on Draco's chest, scaring Hermione.

"I – I don't know. Four?" She stood with difficulty and crumpled to the floor beside Draco. She surveyed his face. It was calm, cold, and paling by each agonizingly slow second.

"Hermione, when I tell you to, pinch his nose and breathe two breaths into his mouth." She continued to thump his chest.

Hermione was in so much pain, she could hardly see straight. She was having trouble understanding Narcissa's words. "What? Why aren't you using magic?"

"Breathe!"

She did as she was told, and pulled back from Draco's cold lips, dizzier than before. She closed her eyes and braced herself with her arms to prevent falling on him.

"I'm not a healer! I can't do anything until his heart starts beating again." Her voice broke. She'd learned CPR when her husband started practicing dark arts, just in case. She never thought she'd be using it on her own son. "Breathe!"

Hermione almost fell onto Draco's mouth, but she managed to get the breaths in. As she sat up too quickly, her vision became blurrier and she saw spots of black.

"What happened?"

Hermione forced herself to focus on the new voice. It was Healer Morris, the wizard who agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to be on call for any injured Death Eater.

"He's been down for about five minutes. No breath, no pulse." Hermione heard Narcissa's distant voice. She rolled to her side, realizing she'd been dragged away from Draco, and was lying on the floor. She could see two blurry figures moving over a stationary one. She heard nothing but low rumblings in her ears, and her vision kept darkening. She knew Draco was lying on the ground over there, fighting for his life as she fought to hold consciousness. She reached out for him in desperation, longing to hold his hand. But she felt nothing but the dulling pain. She blinked to clear her vision and to see what the healer was doing. It worked for a second, and then her vision was gone.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 18, 2006**

Everything was black. There was a cold, dark feeling in her bones, and Hermione knew that she'd just awaken from sleep. She kept her eyes closed, afraid to open them to the dark environment. She'd been asleep for too long. Way more than the seven hours she usually slept. She tried to remember the dream she had. It was loud, and chaotic. There were people running every direction, and she kept getting knocked down. She remembered pain, and sadness, but couldn't remember why. Maybe all these people running around knew something she did not.

"You shouldn't be in here." Hermione heard a voice she thought she recognized.

"I've been in bed for a week." Hermione's heart jumped. It definitely recognized that voice. _Draco._

"You've been sneaking out and sitting in that chair for a week. Don't fool yourself into thinking you've been following orders at all."

"I don't follow orders, Father," he said bitterly. "I give them."

The older man snorted. "There's nothing you can do for her, Son," he added, soothingly, after a quiet pause.

"She's been unconscious for six days." Hermione's heart broke to hear her husband's helpless voice.

"She's strong." Lucius's voice sounded comforting and confident. Hermione actually felt some tenderness for him. "You should go back to bed. You both need your rest."

"Just a few more minutes."

"A watched pot never boils."

"She's not a pot. She's my wife, and I'm going to be here when she wakes up."

"Everyone's taking turns. Your mother and I, and a few others."

"I don't want her left alone with any Death Eaters," Draco growled.

"You don't trust your men?"

"Not with my wife." Hermione felt a jolt as Draco took her hand.

"Get some sleep."

Hermione heard the door close. There was a slow intake of breath from the man next to her. "Hermione," his voice squeaked, "please. I survived. I fought for you. Please wake up for me. Come back."

Hermione tried. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn't budge. She tried to move something, anything, just to let him know she was okay. But nothing worked. She lay there, helpless as Draco.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**September 20, 2006**

"Draco, damn it." Hermione heard Lucius come into the room.

"Dad, don't start." Draco was holding Hermione's hand, waiting for her to wake up.

"You're injured, Son."

"I've been healed."

"But you've not recovered."

"I'm fine," he retorted stubbornly.

Lucius only sighed in defeat. "Do you need anything?"

There was a pause. Hermione could feel Draco's surprised through his hand. The last two days, she'd gotten better at reading his emotions this way.

"No. Thank you."

"Hang in there, Hermione." He left the room again.

"Baby, please," Draco pleaded.

_I'm trying!_ Hermione screamed in her head. _Give me a minute!_ Hermione focused on her right hand, trying hard to move it a little bit. She felt some pressure, but not in her hand. It was coming from her head. The pressure wasn't painful, but uncomfortable. Out of curiosity, she didn't fight it, and soon she could feel Draco's presence in her head.

_Draco?_ Was he really using Leglimency on her?

"Hermione?" he spoke aloud. "Merlin, it worked, Can you hear me?"

_Yes, yes I can hear you, Draco._ He sure was.

"Oh thank God. I didn't know if it would work, but I was running out of options and this is driving me crazy. Tell me you're okay."

Hermione smiled, though she was sure it didn't show on her face. _I'm okay. I promise. I'm so sorry to worry you._

"It's okay, Love. I'm okay. Just please wake up. I can't stand this any longer."

_I'm trying, Draco. I have been for days. I just don't know how._

"Days? So you know I've been here, then?"

_Yes, I know. And I love you for it, but by the sounds of things, you really should be in bed yourself._

"Don't listen to my father. He's exaggerating. I'm perfectly fine."

Hermione felt a stab of pain in her left side. She didn't remember being hurt there. _Was that you?_

"What?"

_That pain in my side. Did that come from you?_

Draco paused for a moment. "Oh, well, mine hurts. I guess it's possible that you could feel it."

_Ow!_ Hermione felt another sharp pain, this time in her chest. _Draco, you're in pain. Get to bed._

"I'm fine. Am I hurting you?"

_Well, yeah. But I'm more concerned for you. You've obviously not been taking it easy._

"I'll go back to my bed when you get out of this one. Deal?"

Hermione mentally narrowed her eyes. _It's not that easy._

"And I find it quite difficult to leave you here alone."

_That's different. You need to get some rest to feel better._

"Trust me, Hermione. It hurts worse when I'm not with you."

She sighed to herself. She might as well not fight him. He wasn't going to listen anyway.

"You're right. I'm not."

She would have rolled her eyes if she could. _Fine. Stay in the bed with me then. You need rest._

Draco shook his head as if she could see it. "No, we don't know how extensive your injuries are. I could hurt you if I move you the wrong way."

_What do you mean? What happened to me?_

"Do you remember anything?"

Hermione tried to recall, using images from her dream to spark her memory. She remembered that Draco was hurt, and that people were running, and…that was about it. _No. No, I don't remember. I just remember you fighting Harry._

Draco swallowed. That defeat still rubbed him the wrong way. "Yes. I fought him. In the clearing beside the robe shop."

_Yes, _she slowly pulled the memory, _I saw Harry first. And then I was hit by a curse. And after I took care of them, I saw you. I looked away for a second, and then you were on the ground._

Draco bit his cheek bitterly. "Well I'm glad you didn't see the curse that put me there. It was a rather embarrassing hit."

_You have nothing to be embarrassed about. From the looks of things, we're coming out ahead._

Draco snorted. "Well, we _were._ Until I was taken out of play." He sighed. "I want you to know I'm not angry with you, Hermione. You did the right thing."

Right thing? _Huh? What did I do? Why would you be angry?_

"I said I'm not angry."

_But why? What could you be angry for?_

"For pulling out. Don't you remember? According to my father, you used the Cruciatus Curse on Potter, and then when you finally got him on the ground, you gave the signal for everybody else to get out. You saved my life. At the expense of yours."

_Oh._ She didn't remember doing any of that. Well the Cruciatus Curse part, maybe. But Harry deserved that. Draco almost died because of him.

"_You_ almost died because of him. Dad said he just watched his side throw curses at you while you ran to check on me. I don't know how you didn't feel it, Hermione."

She would have shrugged. _Guess I'm used to it by now. _

Draco shook his head shamefully. "You shouldn't have risked your life like that, Hermione. You shouldn't have risked the operation just for me."

_Hey, _her thoughts were firm, _if I don't have you, I don't want any of this, got it? You are the operation. It all means nothing if I lose you in the end._

"I understand, Love. And I feel the same about you, but it's different. I'm supposed to protect you. You're my wife."

_And you're my husband. You know I don't take well to double standards, Malfoy. It's kind of low of you to play that card while I'm in a comatose state, you know._

"If you would just let someone take care of you for once – "

_You're one to talk. If you'd let someone take care of you, I wouldn't be lying in bed not feeling my own elusive injuries, but feeling every one of yours right now._

"I'm sorry." Draco tried to ignore the pain he was feeling.

_That doesn't help. Even if you don't feel it, it's still there. And I'm not strong enough to ignore it. I love you, baby, but you've got to get out of my head before I explode._

Draco nodded. He wanted to be there in her head, forever if he had to be; but it was hurting her. And he couldn't hurt her any more. He'd already risked her life far beyond reason. "I love you."

_I love you, too. Now please go get some rest. I can't rest if I know you're feeling all that pain and not doing anything to make it better._

"It's really not that bad."

_You might get that past your parents, but you can't tell me it doesn't hurt. I've felt your pain. Get your stubborn ass in bed. Immediately._

He laughed. "All right, all right. Goodnight."

_Goodnight, Draco._

He let go of her hand and Hermione heard the door shut. She took a deep breath. She would sleep tonight, but tomorrow, she would make herself wake up.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I always knew that if you put your mind to something, you could do it. I woke up the next day, fully alert. And fully in pain. It was horrendous. I'd honestly never been so physically hurt in all my life. And I'd lived through a lot of wounds, and had a lot of battle scars to prove it. But this – it was ridiculous. Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius later filled me in on exactly what all happened at the battle, from the accounts of Lucius and other Death Eaters. Apparently, by cursing Harry, I had gained the trust of a few doubtful Death Eaters. Not that I really cared. I still didn't like them. _

_It took a couple months to heal properly. Draco and I could get up in spurts, but for the most part, we were on bed rest. Idiot healer…I bet he just did that as revenge for getting him out of bed in the middle of the night._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**November 9, 2006**

Hermione heaved into the porcelain bowl for a last time and sunk onto the cold bathroom floor in a sweat. This wasn't fair. She'd been in bed for two months. She hadn't been anywhere to contract a stomach bug! And nobody else in the house was sick. Why did this kind of thing always happen to her?

She rolled onto her back and stared at the cream-colored ceiling. Maybe it was her muggle-born immune system. She'd been exposed to the stomach virus her whole life, where it wasn't a common wizard illness. "I _would_ have to be a muggle."

"What about muggles?" Draco walked into the bathroom, and wrinkled his nose up at the smell. He flushed the toilet and sat beside Hermione on the floor.

"They made me sick."

Draco was confused, but let it go. "Back to bed?"

She nodded her head and sat up, watching the lights in the room spin and blur as she did so. "I don't understand. I haven't eaten anything in two days. What could possibly be on my stomach? I've got to be vomiting up my internal organs by this point."

Draco cringed at the visual. "How about we not talk about that? It's going to make me sick."

"Well good!" Hermione shouted resentfully. "It's not fair that I'm the only one who's sick! I hate being sick! I'd rather be lying in a bed with glass from the grandfather clock embedded in my spine again than to be sick. I swear, if I throw up one more time – " she didn't finish the threat, but let Draco help her out of the floor and steady her as they walked back to their bed.

"Kids?" Narcissa knocked on the open door as she walked in.

"Hi, Mom." Draco helped Hermione into the bed and handed her a glass of cold water.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?"

"Just dandy, thanks." She took a drink of water and didn't look at the others.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows at Draco. He simply shook his head, asking her to ignore it. They both knew Hermione didn't mean it. She was just upset that she had been sick for so long.

Narcissa didn't make a scene, but put her hand on Hermione's head, while the younger girl rolled her eyes.

"You've felt my head a hundred times and still don't know what's wrong with me. Obviously you don't know what you're doing."

Narcissa pursed her lips, forcing herself to keep her cool with the girl.

"Hermione," Draco warned.

"Sorry. I'm just pissed off."

"I know, Dear. But your symptoms are worsening. You're obviously more irritable than before."

"Yeah. And I'm starving, but I can't eat anything, because every little thing I put in my mouth comes right back up an hour later. And I'm bored, but I can't even read a damn book because I'm so dizzy I can't see the words. I'm also pretty tired, which doesn't make any sense since I've been laying in bed doing nothing for two freaking months!"

"Hermione?" Narcissa asked, somewhat alarmed, as a sudden suspicion came to her.

Her voice stopped Hermione's rant. "What?"

"How long since, " she leaned to Hermione's ear to whisper, "your last period?"

"What?" Hermione pulled back. "That's not any of your business. What does – " Hermione stopped talking with her mouth held open. _Oh. My. God._

No, she couldn't be. Could she?

Oh yes, she could. Hermione counted in her head, but it didn't do any good. No matter how many years of Arithmancy she used to calculate, she still hadn't had her period in more than two months. She looked between Narcissa, her stomach, and Draco. He looked very nervous. Had he figured out what was going on? It didn't look like it, seeing as he was still standing upright.

"Hermione?" He asked, alarmed by the sudden tension in the air.

"Draco, I think we have a problem."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_I couldn't believe it. The look on Draco's face, the confusing nervous and joyful look on Narcissa's and my dreaded wishes battling against my gut feeling were almost too much to handle. I simply could not believe it. That's the only words I have to describe that moment in my life. Un-fucking-believable. _

_I couldn't tell what Draco was thinking. I couldn't even tell exactly what I was thinking, to be honest. I was so confused. I didn't know how it could happen. The honeymoon, maybe? But we were always so careful. How the hell did I, of all people, end up pregnant?_

_Even now, I have to swallow back the nerves. It's still the most terrifying thing to me; the prospect of having a child, I mean. I wasn't ready to be a parent. Draco and I weren't ready. We were newlyweds. We were the source of all evil. We were an unlikely couple. And we were in the middle of a pregnancy crisis. _

_Oh God, what were we supposed to do?_

_Draco tried to be calm. Bless his heart; he tried with all his might. He was the dutiful husband, helping me find other explanations for this phenomenon. But then when that ship sailed, he had no choice. He jumped ship, and started siding with Narcissa, saying how it was entirely possible, and that we'd better be sure about it before getting too excited. _

_Excited? If he only knew how "excited" I truly was. All I thought was that if I were pregnant, my grandchildren would be born with high blood pressure._

_But he was right. There was no need to panic. We had to be sure._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

"Get Healer Morris," Draco told Narcissa, and she immediately left the room.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I hate that guy. Can't I just go to the hospital?"

"No. Our cover is blown, now. They know we're in on all this. If someone sees you there – " Draco didn't even finish his sentence. He didn't have to. Hermione knew what would happen; and an unplanned pregnancy would be the least of her worries.

"Fine. But he better not put me back on bed rest. Or I'll curse him into next year."

Draco chuckled. "Not all good wizards are bad, you know."

She snorted. "Might as well be."

"Well you used to be good, didn't you?" he challenged.

She smirked. "Yeah. But then I met you and got over that in a hurry."

Draco rubbed between her shoulder blades. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm to blame."

"Not to blame. You're to thank." She kissed the hand that she was holding.

"Promise me that you're happy with your life." Draco suddenly turned serious. "I don't want to be responsible for changing you."

She looked at him sympathetically. "I want you to be. I'm the happiest I've ever been with you."

"Even with the possibility of a baby on the way?" He asked, cautiously.

Hermione swallowed nervously. "Whatever happens, there's a reason. And if we are – pregnant," she struggled to speak the words, "then we'll handle it."

Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully. He was shocked, worried, and terrified, but didn't expect Hermione to be the same way. She always had an answer, but right now, she was making up bullshit not to hurt his feelings. He could tell. He decided it was best to shut up for now, and just wait to see what the healer said.

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy, what can I do for you today?" Healer Morris tried to be pleasant, but showed his uneasiness.

"I need a pregnancy test," she stately simply.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Little lady, you were supposed to have been on bed rest for the past eight weeks. How on earth could you turn up pregnant?" He joked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for jokes. "Just do the damn test."

Morris cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll need you to leave the room, please."

"He stays."

"But –"

"Draco stays." Hermione repeated.

Morris didn't look happy, but didn't dare argue with her. "As you wish."

After ten minutes of poking and, in Hermione's opinion, unnecessary prodding, Morris had the results.

"Congratulations, you're having a baby." He smiled gleefully to Draco and Hermione's expressionless faces.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_To say we were shocked would be an understatement. We couldn't even tell Healer Morris to leave that day. Narcissa had to take care of it and pass along all the information he had for us. Pamphlets, tips, appointments, etcetera. I never knew there was so much to having a baby! The whole idea was just way over my head. I wasn't prepared. We weren't prepared._

_It was a huge pill to swallow – the thought of bringing a child into the world. Just think: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger…parents…of the same child. Oh, if our old classmates could have seen us then. They'd have gotten a good laugh. We were the least likely couple to have gotten married. But having kids? That just solidifies everything. It makes a husband and a wife a _family. _I was about to have a family. My own family. Not my parents, or Draco's parents, but a real family of my own. I was making a family. Draco and I were making a family._

_And it scared the shit out of us both. Merlin, it was just so annoying and awkward. The annoying part was that I was still sick. And though it was getting a little better, I still spent the majority of my day in the bathroom. The awkward part was everything else. I didn't know how to act around Draco. We never really talked about the idea of kids before we got married. Maybe we should have. Isn't that what most couples do during the engagement stage? If we had, maybe we wouldn't have walked around the house in a complete daze for a week, afraid to talk to each other about it. I didn't know what he thought about fathering a child. I was too afraid to tell him what I thought – which was that I didn't know what to think. I needed help coming to terms with this whole thing. And since I was too scared to turn to Draco or Narcissa (I didn't dream of asking Lucius) for help, I sent an owl to the only other person I thought could help me with this matter._

_Emmy turned out to be a lifesaver. She already had one child, and was pregnant as well, so she knew her shit. I was able to talk to her about all the mixed feelings I had. She laughed and assured me that I wasn't just freaking out about the pregnancy – that all women had mood swings like that. She made me feel so much better. I can't even describe it. I think that was the moment I decided she was my new best friend. I really liked her a lot, and I loved the idea of Draco and I being best friends with another couple. It was so normal. I couldn't believe that after everything I went through, I was still able to relate to the word "normal." I could have normal friends, and a normal pregnancy, and get normal advice from said friends about said pregnancy. My life felt better._

_All I had to do was talk to Draco about it. It's funny now, to look back and see the way we danced around the subject of the baby – both of us terrified to talk about it. Apparently he misinterpreted my silence the way I misinterpreted his. I thought he was so distant because he didn't want the baby. He thought it was because I was angry with him._

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**November 17, 2006**

"I don't know why you're so mad at me."

Hermione pointed to her stomach dramatically. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I did this to myself."

"Hey, you were the one who got the bright idea to drink half a handle of tequila."

"Ugh. Don't even remind me. Of all the things I'm going to have to do for this pregnancy, I think giving up alcohol will be the easiest."

Draco perked his ears up in interest. "Really? So, you're thinking you're going to keep it then?" he approached the subject carefully. It was something he knew they would have to talk about sooner or later. He was dying to know what her intentions were.

She looked at him, dumbfounded. Keep it? She hadn't really thought of another option. "Well – I guess. What did you want to do?"

Draco shrugged, trying not to sway her decision, though his heart pounded loudly. "I want you to do what you want to do. I'm behind you – whatever you decide."

She snorted. "I think you being behind me is what got us into this mess."

He chuckled; somewhat glad she could see humor in the situation. "I think you were on top that night."

"I think we were all over the place, actually."

He laughed, remembering their honeymoon. "So this baby was really conceived in Mexico?"

She smiled down at her stomach. It was such a shock at first, and she still didn't know how to handle it; but knowing there was a living, growing human being inside of her made her feel…something. She couldn't really explain it. Even if it was unplanned and certainly had terrible timing, she felt something good for the baby. Was it love? She didn't know. Maybe. She was far too confused to know. What she did know was that she was keeping it. She couldn't abort a baby. Ever. Even if it were for the right reasons, which she didn't even have at the moment. Nor could she give it up for adoption. When she thought about the baby that she and Draco created, together – their hair, eyes, lips, nose, feet, fingers, their everything; she couldn't imagine it living with another family. No, the baby would stay here, with its mommy and daddy, and be the most spoiled little brat in the world.

"I'm keeping the baby." She nodded her head, affirming her decision. "If that's not what you want then I'm sorry. But I can't – "

He was across the room in a heartbeat and had his lips on hers. The kiss was passionate, and full of the love he felt both for her and the unborn baby she carried. He pulled away and tucked a curl behind her ear. "That's what I want."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

_So for once in our lives, Draco and I wanted the same thing, at the same time. It was like a miracle had occurred. The planets had to be aligned or something. Everything was perfect…or so I thought._

_After the excitement of the baby had calmed down, Lucius started up about reenacting our plans again. I can't believe I had actually forgotten about all that. It seemed like a lifetime ago. We had proved successful during the battle. We had few casualties compared to the other side. We had more than proven our point and our strength. I'll bet Harry Potter was furious with me, though. Oh well, it didn't matter. At least he matched the attitude of his wife, then._

_We didn't hear anything from the Order. Lucius presumed they were healing and reassembling, though. And he suggested that we do the same. Draco and I had a long talk about it. We didn't know what to do. We'd started this thing; we thought we should finish it. But at the same time, it wasn't safe for me to be so involved. If anything happened to the baby, I'd never forgive myself. Nor would Draco. He said that if I wanted him to, he would continue to carry out the duties of the Dark Lord, and I could stay out of it. But I didn't want him doing it alone. It was strange, but I felt some need to protect him. I didn't want him working alone with his father. The last time he did that, he changed back into the old Draco Malfoy. I didn't want either of us to change into our old selves, so I told him I would continue to help; I just wouldn't fight._

_Draco reluctantly agreed. I know he didn't want me in any position to hurt myself whatsoever, but he knew better than to try and keep me completely out of the loop. So I did most of the "desk work" while he and the other death eaters took care of the real stuff. Having them leave out on raids without me left me plenty of time to explore the house. _

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**January 4, 2007**

Hermione stepped out of a doorway, not knowing where it led. She'd found yet another secret passageway in Malfoy Manor. She never knew the house had so many secrets. She never knew the Malfoy's had so many secrets. In the last two months of wandering around the house with nothing to do, she'd found out quite a bit about Draco's family.

She stepped into a dimly lit room she'd never been in before. Directly in front of her, on a wooden desk, sat Draco Malfoy, a rag in his hand, wiping blood from him forearm.

He stopped what he was doing, surprised to see her there. He didn't know she knew about this room. Not that it was anything he was hiding from her. It was just where they kept medicines and bandages. She had never needed anything from here before. "Hermione?"

She forgot that she was exploring the house and just come across her husband in a hidden room. She approached him with concern, taking the bloody rag from him. "What happened?"

He let her doctor his arm – he wasn't having much luck doing it left-handed, anyway. "It's nothing. We just got in from a raid. I was going to come upstairs after I got cleaned up. I didn't want to worry you." He shrugged sheepishly, aware that she looked annoyed with his reasoning.

"You idiot, it doesn't matter. I'm always worried when you go away." She touched a particularly sensitive spot and he jumped. "Sorry."

"You're okay." He handed her some butterfly bandages to close the wound.

"You need to be more careful." She chastised him.

"Hermione, it's just a scratch."

"A scratch that could have been a foot to the right and hit you square in the stomach."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Love. Don't stress yourself. It's not good for the baby."

She copied his gesture. "I wish you people would stop telling me what is and isn't good for the baby. I know what the baby can handle. It's fine."

Draco smirked. After months of injury and morning sickness, his Hermione was back to normal. And she'd apparently been exploring the house. "How'd you find this place anyway?"

Hermione looked around the room, taking in her surroundings for the first time. "I don't know. I just stumbled upon it. I've been doing quite a bit of exploring lately, you know." She smiled.

"Find anything interesting?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Found out there's a lot more square feet to this house than I originally thought"

He laughed. "Yeah, I found that out as a kid. There's probably still a bunch of placed I don't know about."

"Remind me and I'll show you around one day," she teased.

He grinned. Chances were, she already knew more about the house than he ever planned for her to.

"All right, you're good to go."

"Great. Thanks. We've got another raid this afternoon." He hopped off the desk and pulled his sweater back on.

"What? You can't go on another raid. You're still hurt."

"You just said I was good to go."

"Yeah, upstairs for lunch. Not another raid. You at least need to wait a couple days for the blood to scab over before you do anything that could cause it to start again."

"Hermione, I'm okay. I promise." He kissed her forehead.

She sighed, giving up. "You don't like to show weakness, do you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, amused. "Do you know any normal red-blooded wizard who does?"

"No. But then you're not just a normal, red-blooded wizard, are you?" She bit her lip, not sure if she was happy with herself for bringing it up. Oh well, they had to talk about it sometime, didn't they?

"What do you mean?"

"Draco, I know."

Draco turned and smiled innocently, though he was embarrassed. "Know what?"

"I know about your family. You're of noble blood."

Draco tried to nonchalantly pick a strand of hair from his black sweater. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what he should say.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. How did you find out?"

"I've read every wizarding history book in this house."

He smiled. "Of course you have. How could I be so dull?"

She smiled back, smugly, and shrugged a single shoulder. "I guess it's kind of hard to seem smart next to me."

They both laughed. Draco stopped to look at her, happily. She was so beautiful when she laughed.

"Okay, so how do you know about my family, anyway?"

"Please-Malfoy is one of the oldest wizard bloodlines."

"That's true." He looked at her, nervously. "What else do you know?"

She hesitated. She didn't know how he would react to the rest of her knowledge, but he would find out she knew, eventually. "I know that someone in your family was a mentor to the Dark Lord."

Draco forced himself to stare at the floor, breathing heavily, instead of throwing an angry glare in Hermione's direction. It wasn't her fault she was so nosy, and he'd really rather she didn't know. But he still didn't want to talk about it. Maybe he could play it off. "You mean, other than my father?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes." She waited to see if he would offer any information. When he kept staring, somewhat bored, at the hardwood floor, she continued. "Abraxas Malfoy?"

The name made Draco twitch-much more than the statue in the second floor hallway did. At least when he looked at the statue, he could _pretend_ it wasn't his grandfather.

"Like your middle name?" Hermione pressed.

"Yeah. All right? Abraxas Malfoy was my grandfather, and yes, he taught the dark Lord everything he knew." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Grandfather was Voldemort's mentor, Dad is our mentor, and I'm just crazy. I guess our blood isn't so noble after all."

Hermione laid her hand, gingerly, over her stomach. "Let's make the bad blood end with us, shall we?"

Draco smiled. "I'd love to." He knew she was only four months pregnant, but he swore she looked different already.

"What do you think it's going to be?"

Draco looked at Hermione's tummy, almost as if he could see inside. "Probably a boy."

Hermione wrinkled her eyebrows and looked down, rubbing her stomach gently. "You think so?" She rather hoped for a girl.

Draco must have picked up on her sadness. "Oh, I don't _know_ that it will be a boy. It's just that Malfoy men always have sons. One son. They're all about 'keeping the Malfoy name going' and whatnot." He smiled, in spite of himself. He would love his child, no matter the sex, but to tell the honest truth, he was hoping for a girl. He'd thought a lot about it, actually.

Because he married a muggle-born, it technically made him a blood-traitor. His father didn't acknowledge this, because he didn't want to admit that such a thing had happened in his family. Draco swore, however, that the statue of Abraxas scowled at him whenever he passed it. And because Hermione wasn't of pure blood, the baby would be a half-blood. But because he was a blood-traitor, the baby would also be classified as such. It didn't matter that they were fighting for the dark side; they were still of bad blood. If they had a girl, she would merely marry and there would be no continuation of the Malfoy name, and eventually the bloodline would die out.

Hermione was secretly thinking the same thing as Draco. She didn't want her child to have to endure the ridicule of being a Mudblood that she had, on top of being the first and only non-pureblood Malfoy. And for selfish reasons, she didn't want to be the one responsible for tainting the Malfoy bloodline.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N: I'm sorry I didn't end with a cliffhanger or something. To be completely honest, I couldn't really think of anything else to write. I did fine with the beginning of the chapter, and I know where I want this to go, but I'm having a hard time filling things in. **

**Anyway, as always, thanks for reading, and if you've got a moment, please leave me a review! I'd love to hear what you all think about this, and see if there's anything you'd like to see happen during this time of mild writer's block. =)**


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